Sins of the Sons
by SithRuse
Summary: Obi-Wan must cope with losing Qui-Gon and eventually Anakin, all the while battling his own demons of passion and attachment. Pre-TPM thru Post-RotS (rewrites the events after Order 66).
1. The First Sin

**Sins of the Sons**

by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

Note2: The story comes in three phases for the three men, and each has a song associated with the mood. Qui-Gon - Jacob's Theme (Eclipse) by Howard Shore. Obi-Wan - Sixth Sense Main Theme - James Newton Howard. Anakin - The Prince's Tale (Deathly Hallows) - Alexandre Desplat.

oOo

 _Qui-Gon_

The morning rays of the sun seemed hard pressed to lay their greeting caress upon the Jedi Temple this day. Rain was not a thing allowed on Coruscant. The planetary climate control system prevented violent weather, instead lightly misting the planet in such a way as to be unseen to the casual eye and at the same time allowing the planet to remain a perfectly comfortable temperature (an average of the home temperatures of Coruscant's most likely population at any given time). It did this on the upper surface and almost nearly so at ground level. Thus, at worst a day on Coruscant could be gray and cloudy. Today seemed geared to have a good go of it, too.

In the quarters he shared with his apprentice, Qui-Gon Jinn sat alone meditating on the cup of caf he held as he gazed easily out the window at the sky. Such a simple, meaningless thing for a Jedi Knight to focus on, but forced him into a state of relaxation and let him forget cares, lessons, missions, expectations, duty and a small ache in his knee that certainly had nothing to do with age. The cup was smooth and a dull beige, and the drink inside warm. The rich, earthy taste glided over the tongue like a spice waterfall on Aridus. It bit the taster in a pleasing way and left behind a malted, sweet aftereffect that rewarded patience. The warmth hugged the body and the gentle stimulant prodded the mind. And the color...

A persistent beep interrupted his observations. Qui-Gon swallowed and set his cup down to answer his comlink. "This better be good," he said by way of reply, fully expecting his sixteen-year-old charge to be reporting in on where he was at so early a time. The gruffness of the master's voice was only affected to keep the younger man on his toes, not any indicator of true ire.

"You can be quite assured that _most_ of my communications have due cause," a similar gruff tone of voice drawled ironically. Mace Windu.

Qui-Gon chuckled at his mistake. "Apologies. I seem to be short an apprentice this morning. I thought perhaps he had finally lowered himself to let me know of his whereabouts."

A thoughtful grunt came over the link. "He and a group of padawans left the dining hall early this morning. They had the look of a body of teenagers getting ready to prove a point, most likely by way of lightsaber competition..."

"...Probably because they were just that."

Windu elected to ignore that. "At any rate, the politics of youth are hardly why I called. Yoda and I would like a word with you in the Council Chamber in the next half hour, if you would."

At this Jinn knit his brows. He had no scheduled missions, nor had there been any indicators of a rising need. Nevertheless, he was obliged to respond with all the alacrity his time allowed. The morning caf would have to wait for further analysis. "Of course. On my way."

The link went dead and Qui-Gon took a parting swig from his cup, donned his robe and proceeded from the room. As he walked he stretched out a curious probe through the bond he shared with his apprentice and felt adrenaline, excitement, enjoyment. The master had the distinct feeling he was going to be regaled with a blow-by-blow tale of skill later on. Ah, to be young again. Not that the older ones didn't have their own play sessions, Qui-Gon recalled wryly of his last practice session with Master Plo Koon. And they still apparently had lessons to learn.

He wended his quiet way through the halls, replacing coffee with the repetition of a well-known path to gear his mind back into a peaceful mode, greeting those that would greet him and taking in the calm of the Temple. The Council Chamber was empty save for Windu and Yoda, he could sense, when he came to it. Inferring a low-key meeting from this, Qui-Gon entered and found the two senior masters conferring. Both turned to him with the ever mild expression of wisdom, but there was something amiss in the Force.

"Offers peace freely, the Temple does," Yoda said, his green eyes seeing through to the soul, as always. "Yet true peace is in the mind of the Master, no matter his surroundings."

Folding his arms into the sleeves of his robe, Qui-Gon nodded without question. "Of course, my Master. And I sense that tenet is about to be tested in me. Am I right?"

The two exchanged a pleased look at his immediate grasp of the situation they were about to lay before him. Windu nodded solemnly as he looked back into Jinn's gaze. "A situation has arisen. One that requires your personal expertise. You may be aware that Master Elren has been abroad for some time."

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. Elren was a master with whom he had little contact, but he was aware of his existence, and that of his padawan. "He was sent on a mission recently, as I recall. To the outer rim?" A rescue mission, then? Qui-Gon wasn't so sure.

"Yes. Around a month ago, in fact, he was sent to investigate strange rumors on Bal'demnic." A sober pause accented by a sigh tipped Qui-Gon off that things had probably gone awry. It was the only emotion Windu outwardly offered, a general sense of sorrow colored his aura. "A recon team has been sent on an anonymous tip that a lightsaber was seen on a neighboring world and traded on the black market. We get no sense from him in the Force. We believe him to be dead."

A thrill of surprise passed through Qui-Gon, a flash of anger at the death of a comrade, then he schooled himself into that rhythm of peace he achieved earlier. "That's unfortunate. Was his padawan with him?"

"Too dangerous, we felt," Yoda provided gravely. "Here she remained and it is for her you are called to serve."

Of course. His familiarity with her world of origin would make him a logical servant, if there was a need, but of course they would not ask him to serve as master to her if she had lost her own. He had a padawan to whom he was bound and well-attuned, and while Obi-Wan was poised to become a Jedi Knight of surpassing quality, at sixteen he was not ready for the trials.

His raised eyebrow drew Windu's attention. "Unfortunately for his padawan, it seems her fate is going to be stranger than even her people intended for her. On top of this burden, she has been called for the Transference."

Now that did give Jinn something to pause over. His hands reflexively went to his hips, a sure sign of his confusion. "The Transference? She's too young for that." She was only Obi-Wan's age.

Windu gave an assenting nod. "Yes, but nevertheless she is called. And per our agreement with her people, she must be escorted to Xhal. That is where you and Obi-Wan come in. Your familiarity with her home world and predecessor make you ideal. And it is understood you have cultivated a friendship with her predecessor. It will give you a chance to make peace with what must be."

If there was ever a time for Jedi silence, now was not it. "What peace must I make?" he asked a little sharply, though he suspected he already understood the truth. It disrupted his tranquility, made him vulnerable to his emotions.

It was Yoda who replied, and his gentility was disarming. "Dying, the Lady Xedryn is. Becoming One with the Force, as we all must do. No details were we given. Only the summons."

Qui-Gon was stunned, to say the least. It had been close to seven years since he had seen Melyssi Xedryn, but it seemed almost as yesterday. His padawan called him a collector of strange friends, and she was no less strange than most. She had called for a Jedi to come to her world and he had been chosen to thread through the darkness there for the purpose of accepting a child for the Jedi Order. It was a usual sort of duty for a Jedi, but wholly unprecedented when one became aware of the circumstances. It was through this process he had come to appreciate the people of Xhal, different as they were, and to appreciate her for she was even more different still. And now she was dying. It would not be age that killed her, he knew, and that troubled him.

Master Windu picked up where Yoda left off. "In the stead of Master Elren, you will escort Padawan Lyra to Xhal for the Transference. It is our hope that by the time your mission is complete, we will have word of Elren's fate. As it is, we have a padawan without a master. It is the consensus of the Council that given the uncertainty of her fitness for the trials after the Transference she will not be elevated to Knighthood yet. But we acknowledge the process will change her in such a way that her knowledge of life, skills, and the Force, will be altered. Therefore, we have elected to allow that she finish her training with a general education provided by many masters instead of one replacement."

It was not unheard of, but unusual for one still years away from the trials. The two senior masters exchanged uncertain glances, but Qui-Gon sensed their plan was set in stone. Yoda continued, "Yet a need, I feel, for one master to oversee her training and decide when ready, she is, for Knighthood."

"You understand the Transference and the Xhali better than any of us. Therefore you will serve as steward of her education and will be called upon to make any important decisions concerning her future." Windu leaned forward in his chair and steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "We foresee no undue hardship in this position, nor any interference with your own apprentice. The bulk of her remaining education will, as stated, be spread among the available masters until she is fit for Knighting. Do you accept this commission?"

A child raised by an entire village, Qui-Gon mused to himself. If it weren't for the Transference adding to her knowledge he wasn't so sure he would agree she should be taught by so many. Granted, all padawans learned lessons from various teachers, but it was the intimacy of the master and padawan relationship that truly made a Jedi. For her sake, he wished Elren would be found alive. By reputation he was a very good and wise teacher.

As it was, he saw little reason to say no. It was a duty of evaluation, nothing more, and he had little doubt she would complete her training without incident, as most Jedi padawans did. And so he nodded once and the matter was settled. The duty of escort, that was one he could do without, but in that he was given no choice.

It was ordered that he, Obi-Wan and Padawan Lyra would leave within the hour, as Lady Xedryn was being kept alive strictly for the ceremony. He would not for any world hasten her to her doom, but neither would he leave any friend to linger on in pain or sorrow. In the lift back to his quarters, Qui-Gon contacted his apprentice to order his preparation. Once there the master himself started packing a light bag for the journey, thinking solemn thoughts within the confines of his small bedroom.

He trusted Obi-Wan to be able to face most situations with calm, determination and propriety. Yet the idea of taking him to Xhal unnerved the master. Xhal was a dark world, steeped in the Darkside of the Force. He did not like that his padawan would walk there, where the very Living Force was heavy with black aspirations and veiled temptations. It would be a harsh test of his resolve.

When Obi-Wan entered their quarters he was mildly breathless, but putting up a pretty solid effort to appear collected. Qui-Gon gave him a brief, acknowledging look. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you were summoned," the younger man apologized as he went into his own bedroom across the hall.

Qui-Gon Jinn was a man aware of the intricacies of padawans at play. His former master would attest to that vehemently. "You have a few minutes to shower and pack. I've only just come from the meeting myself." Across the way he saw Obi-Wan halt putting a pair of clothes into his bag and throw it into the refresher instead. It tugged at one corner of the older man's lips. "We've been asked to escort a padawan to her home of origin in her master's stead, in accordance with an agreement the Jedi made with her people."

"Oh? Who?"

"Lyra Xedryn. She's your own age. Do you know of her?"

The younger man paused at his door, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. "Isn't she the one with the eyes?"

"The one with the eyes?" Jinn repeated in gentle admonishment. "I should hope they all have eyes, my young apprentice."

At least Obi-Wan had the humility to look sheepish as he went into the 'fresher. "She frightens the younglings, the ones that have seen her in the map room, anyway." The water started running. "Where are we going?" It would be a shower debriefing. Qui-Gon hated having to compete with the noise of the spout.

"A place called Xhal. It's a loosely held protectorate in the outer rim. In fact, one could say it's only by virtue of being in some database that the planet is affiliated with the Republic at all. They have no seat in the Senate and very little contact with outsiders."

"Will we be in any danger, being outside the law?" Obi-Wan asked from behind the partition.

Finished packing, the master leaned against his own door frame to project his voice, but within a respectful distance of the 'fresher. He folded his arms comfortably and thought of that steaming cup of caf he'd been called away from. "No. The Xhali have a deep reverence for Force users. We will be treated with the utmost respect, despite...certain ideological differences."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Qui-Gon had already mentally laid out an overview, but he had a feeling his straight-laced padawan was about to erupt into a bevy of questions. He had had much the same reaction upon first learning of Xhal. "Theirs is a tri-class system of government, service industry and a special class of Force users called 'Xara'. That name also serves as a title; Xara in the feminine, Xar in the masculine. They are the true decision makers on the planet, but only rarely exercise power outside their own circles, intent instead upon their studies of the Force." By then Obi-Wan had shut the water off and started dressing, so the master could now lower his voice. "It is those studies from which our differences spring. The Xara study all aspects of the Force, including the Darkside. Perhaps _especially_ the Darkside."

It was for this reason Qui-Gon found himself hesitant to bring Obi-Wan or even the young padawan who belonged there, if truth be told. It was not a place for the untried to be tested. His apprentice was no fresh learner, but the idea painted a look of surprise on his face. The younger man exited the refresher, started hastily throwing things into his bag."Why would the Jedi have dealings with such a people?" he asked.

Qui-Gon shrugged. "They gave us one of their own. Any life is worth the risk." Obi-Wan had his pack done in the span of a few minutes and together shouldered them, ready for the mission. They stepped out of their quarters and headed towards the nearest lift. Absolutism was not a tenet of the Jedi Code, but it seemed common sense that there was little room for accommodation between Jedi and those whose methodologies sprung from the Darkside of the Force. Still, if one could return and convince many...

"There is an agreement between us and them," he told his apprentice. "They have sworn their studies remain self-contained; they seek no power outside of their world. If they aren't interfering with conditions in the galaxy at large, the Jedi have no cause to interfere with them. This arrangement is older than Yoda, even, though Lyra Xedryn is the first among them to be trained as a Jedi. They have historically turned their backs on any that break the agreement, even going so far as to provide us with names. At this point I think we are both comfortable in the silence."

"But isn't there danger in complacency?" Obi-Wan asked, rightfully so.

The older master nodded, pleased by his apprentice. "Always. That is why we remain aware, if silent. As it is..."

They came to the main lift just then, and before he could continue the door opened. A Jedi youngling Drall exited and bowed to his elders, then paused to look at Obi-Wan quizzically with his dark eyes. "Do not let it hit you," he said finally.

"What?" Obi-Wan asked with a raised eyebrow.

The furry youngling looked to Qui-Gon imploringly. "Master? What is a word meaning cold, white circle?"

"Snowball?" the master suggested, hiding a smile beneath a well placed smoothing of his mustache. It looked thoughtful and concealed much, that gesture.

The youngling replied with a deep bow. "That must be it. I thank you, Wise Master." He turned back to Obi-Wan, whiskers twitching. "If it hits you, it will hurt. Your brain will go cloudy forever."

With another bow, the child turned and left them bewildered as they entered the lift. Obi-Wan looked at his master. "Forever is a long time."

At that, Qui-Gon laughed out loud. "No doubt. You'd better be careful. The seasons on Xhal are snowy for 8 months of the standard year. I'd hate to see you acquire some sort of brain damage there." Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at his master, who added, "Forever _is_ a long time." He put levity aside as the lift carried them closer to the shuttle bay adjoining the Temple. For this the Jedi would have to provide a ship, for there were no modes of public transit to Xhal. Qui-Gon returned back to a more serious manner with his apprentice. "Obi-Wan, there is a more serious danger I feel you should prepare yourself for. Because of the aspects of the Force that the Xara study, the planet is a place that is permeated in the Darkside. When we land you will feel it begin to work on you. You must be mindful of your emotions and motivations. All of your baser traits will be prone to...amplification, let us say. Xhal is a cold place where dark instincts try to take over."

That sobered his apprentice. Obi-Wan had yet to feel true darkness creeping into his thoughts; spiderlike and silken fingers that started clawing at the surface until blood was drawn and a festering wound could start the decay which saw all beings as naught but prey and playthings. Qui-Gon shook off the momentary darkness that filled his own memory. He would have to keep a sharp eye on the learners during this trip. Perhaps even include a meditation exercise that would focus them on each other, all three, so that they would be more open to his senses.

When they exited the lift and approached the shuttle bay they found her waiting.

oOo

She was in the shadow of a shuttle and those eyes of hers were shining. It gave Obi-Wan a chill to look at her that way, like she was some forest creature stalking the night. Usually in nature it was the nocturnal carnivores that had reflective eyeshine. Somehow it didn't surprise him that her planet was mired in the Darkside. An unfair stereotyping, but he was human after all. He didn't actively believe she was evil, she just looked that way.

Obi-Wan sighed inwardly, knowing Qui-Gon would probably throw the brain damaging snowball himself if he could hear his padawan think sometimes. He had never actively avoided her in classes. They simply had different friends. He knew very little about her, except that she was often a quiet observer and, well, scared human younglings. Her master, Elren, had taught a basic medical course that Obi-Wan had done little better than average in. The man had been taciturn and probably thought his art too subtle for the likes of young apprentices who would rather be learning lightsaber drills. Maybe the eyes bothered him, too. Night after night...

She bowed to the two of them in greeting and Obi-Wan shook himself from his childish musings, intent on being fair and reserving judgment. His master was unmoved by her appearance. Qui-Gon Jinn was nothing if not cordial to the weird. "I am Qui-Gon Jinn and this is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Are you ready?" he asked her in a gentle voice. He eyed his master, wondering where he had packed away the stern taskmaster.

"Lyra Xedryn. I am ready." She appeared resolute, but there was a faint trace of apprehension to her aura. Perhaps that was why the gentility. Qui-Gon would have picked up on her emotional state before Obi-Wan, being attuned as he was to the Living Force.

Jinn nodded and peered at the shuttle behind her. "Then let us board. We have a bit of a journey ahead of us."

They did. Within there was a small kitchenette, four bunks, a refresher and the cockpit. _Another luxurious adventure courtesy Jedi Skies_ , Obi-Wan thought with a half smile as his master motioned him into the pilot's seat. He threw his bag onto the bunk above the one his master had selected and reported for his inevitable duty for liftoff. He hated flying. The problem was, so did Qui-Gon.

In the cockpit his master sat beside him as copilot, which generally meant he did very little involving flight and more to do with meditation, study or enjoying a cup of caf. In this he claimed he was the very image of his former master, Dooku, who had taught his padawan the finer points of delegation. Obi-Wan's only compensation would be that someday he would have a padawan to whom the flight responsibilities would happily pass. Until then, he started the preflight calculations.

There was a two-chair row behind them and this was where their charge seated herself, behind Obi-Wan and in view of Qui-Gon, who said, "Do you know anything about why you have been summoned so young?"

It occurred to Obi-Wan then that he had no real idea why they were flying a young padawan to her home world. Usually that would only occur if a young Jedi were leaving the order. That situation did not match with his master's question. Her voice seemed vulnerable as she answered, "I received a letter from my aunt, my predecessor, several days ago. She explained that she has been ill with the Stillness for a few months and that she wanted me to come before she could no longer speak or comprehend."

The Stillness was a chilling disease to anyone who had heard of it. It was a humanoid neuro-degenerative disease that severed the connections between conscious thought and virtually all other parts of the brain, leaving its victims awake in the darkness of their own mind. Even the areas that regulated sleep failed to shut down the conscious mind. When his master repeated, "The Stillness?" in a dark tone he could well understand why. A few moments passed. He felt his master trying to collect his thoughts. "Is there a history of this condition in your family?"

Her answer was a stark, "No, Master."

When the silence grew uncomfortable, Obi-Wan found himself say softly, "I'm so sorry." The calculations were finished and he maneuvered the ship into liftoff. Coruscant was cloudy today. "Did you know her well?" It seemed like such an un-Jedi question to ask concerning biological family. In cases like these it was usually a blessing for the attachments of blood to be severed young.

It showed in Lyra Xedryn. Her tone was subdued, but clearly masking a confusing mix of alien emotions as she said, "I've been allowed to speak with her once per year since childhood. I... I would not say I know her well yet, but she has always been a part of my life. I find it strange that soon I will know her as well as I know myself." He wouldn't swear to it, but she sounded like she were resigning herself to certain doom. It puzzled him given the context he was aware of.

They left the atmosphere and the older man input the coordinates for their destination into the navcomputer. Obi-Wan cocked an eyebrow and looked at his master for an answer to that last comment. Qui-Gon let out an expansive breath. "I haven't briefed Obi-Wan on the Transference yet. There's a lot of the story I haven't had time to share. Let me see if I can briefly explain." He turned a bit so he could see them both. "Xhal was colonized long ago by human scientists seeking to genetically alter humans to have ability with the Force."

The idea made Obi-Wan blink. He knew the Force had a strong heritability—Mace Windu's people were a prime example. But to engineer it? As far as anyone knew it couldn't be done. There was nothing in the human genome of Force users that seemed to code for higher midi-chlorian concentration. "I thought the only way you could control the Force that way was selective breeding," he interjected.

"That's how it's been done for millenia now," Lyra replied. "There haven't been any genetic alterations since the first 100 years of colonization."

Qui-Gon nodded in agreement. "At any rate, they achieved their goal and created the Xara. The same engineers were also responsible for those eyes that so frighten you, Obi-Wan."

The apprentice gave his master a pointed look at that, getting only a sly grin in return. Trust Qui-Gon to make his lessons about snap judgments awkward. "I did _not_ say they frightened me," he assured his fellow padawan, giving her an apologetic look over his shoulder. "I only used them as an identifying marker when I asked who we were escorting."

At least she laughed. "Don't worry. I have a pesky Jedi Master, too." Then there was a sudden silence. Obi-Wan searched his thoughts, reminded himself of the whispers around the temple that a Jedi Master had gone missing. It wasn't, was it? She continued, her voice dimmed by pain. "Well, I understand. They like to challenge us. And my eyes are a bit different to normal humans. Xhal is a dark world. Midday there is like Coruscant just before the sky turns pink with sunset. Eyes that see well in the dark are important there."

Obi-Wan again shot his master a reproving glance. Qui-Gon already seemed to regret allowing the conversation to steer them into discomfort. "One more trait was passed on to the Xara, and it is for this we go to Xhal. The Transference."

"What's the Transference?" Obi-Wan asked.

It was Lyra who said, "Memories."

"The transfer of memories, to be exact. From one host to another," his master clarified.

"The erasure of who I am." So this was why she was afraid.

Qui-Gon turned, shook his head at her. "That doesn't happen."

"Are you certain?" She wanted to believe. She would on Qui-Gon's word, Obi-Wan guessed, because that's just how badly she wanted to believe it.

It was good that Qui-Gon's word was as near absolute truth as any man could get, no softening and no misleading. "You will still be who you are. You will know many more things, have memories of places you've never been and recall faces that haven't lived for thousands of years. But I promise you will still be Lyra Xedryn, Jedi Padawan. Or do you change your mind? You can at any time, you know. I will personally guarantee your right to that."

Obi-Wan wondered why she didn't waver. "I'll go." Duty? Her only true duty was to the Temple. Family? Blood? There were times when life seemed to taunt him with the reality that despite his complaints at times he really had it easy. This was one of those times.

His master seemed unsurprised by her choice. "Lyra, I know your aunt well. We were friends from the very day I came to your world to discuss her desire for her heir to become a Jedi. She explained to me the reality of life as a Xara and I'm sure she has also explained it to you." There was a pause. Obi-Wan imagined the young girl was nodding. "I can assure you she did not lead you astray. Which brings me to another point. We are little more than strangers now, you and I. When you obtain her memories that will change. I don't think it will be too difficult for you in maintaining our roles as a Jedi Master and Jedi Apprentice, but nevertheless I feel I should prepare you beforehand so it doesn't come as a surprise."

"Does this mean I'll have to suffer in-jokes I don't understand?" Obi-Wan asked, feeling a need to lighten the conversation up a bit.

Qui-Gon laughed at that. "I wasn't aware you understood the ones you and I share."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. He could hear Lyra snicker behind him and was glad she felt some relief from her burdens. "I suppose I can suffer it. If she were getting Master Yoda's memories, on the other hand..."

"Master Yoda as a child," she suggested with a snort.

Obi-Wan grimaced. "Master Yoda as a teenager."

"File those under things that never happened. I believe Yoda was always at least 500, even at birth," Qui-Gon countered with an absolutely straight face as he got up from his chair. "As for me, I think it's time I reunite myself with the cup of caf I had to give up this morning. Keep the ship together, my young apprentice."

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan motioned her to the empty seat. "Won't he return?" she asked him.

"The shuttle's on auto-pilot," he replied easily. He looked back, saw Qui-Gon rummaging for cups. "He'll sit at the table over there and pretend he's supervising."

"I _am_ supervising," the master called, peering into a white mug, then setting it on the small counter.

"I said that loudly on purpose," Obi-Wan assured his master. "Making sure you weren't backsliding!"

Lyra moved from the back to the front and gave Obi-Wan the first smile he had seen. Her eyes weren't shining and _that_ looked weird to him. "This should be a very interesting trip," she said and he nodded.

The bouquet of brewing caf filled the small shuttle.

oOo

It was halfway through the journey when Obi-Wan asked her about her master. They were sitting at the small table in the kitchenette while Master Jinn meditated on his bunk. Kenobi lazily stirred sugar into his tea while she breakfasted on rations. Not a very satisfying meal. "So Master Elren enjoyed medicine, didn't he?"

A surprised smirk crossed her lips. "What gave you that idea?"

His expression was confused. She found herself enjoying that look, as it was so easy to obtain if you could figure him out. "Well, I mean he taught it..."

Lyra laughed at that. "He didn't like teaching it. He would have rather taught something active, like swordsmanship, but Master Yoda said he could stand to explore the quieter side of the Force for a while." She sighed at that. "I guess he was right."

"I'm sure the team sent to look will find something," he replied kindly. He lifted his tea and sipped. "The Council would probably make Qui-Gon do the same if he knew anything about healing." Those blue eyes looked far off, sardonic. "Personally, I think he does. He just pretends so I have to do it."

Giving the master in question a sidelong glance, Lyra shook her head with a grin. "You'd better behave or you'll get assigned to something worse."

The other padawan sighed mournfully. "I've done it all." He gave his master a fond look. "He's a good master. Wise and understanding. Even if he is a bit, ah, recalcitrant at times."

"Using big words does not make the meaning any less disrespectful," Qui-Gon replied without opening his eyes.

Obi-Wan looked chastened. "I'm sorry, Master. I didn't intend any disrespect. I'm quite fond of your recalcitrance."

Jinn offered a mild look to show there was no real harm done. "No doubt why you mirror it." He went back to his meditations. "You might consider brewing _me_ some tea in about a half an hour."

"My pleasure, Master," Kenobi agreed with a genuine smile. Their interplay made Lyra think painfully of her own master. Elren was different from Qui-Gon Jinn in many ways, but the affection was just the same. She missed it. Taking another sip, Kenobi eyed her. "I might have exaggerated his lack of knowledge about healing."

She smirked. "Am I intended to be surprised?"

He shrugged at that and went on. "There was this time when we were sent into the Coruscant lower levels to find a woman who had sold deathsticks to the son of the Senator of Umbara and killed him. The deathsticks had been laced with a chemical that poisoned the teenager, so we were called in because the Senator feared it was a murder set up by his political enemies. He had very good reason to believe it so. We found where she had set up shop and captured her. She swore she hadn't known about the chemical and after some investigation, we came to believe her. Her supplier was next on our target list. His home was a complete jungle of traps and weapons," he shook his head as he relieved the disbelief, "...I've never seen any single man so utterly armed."

"Were one of you injured by the traps?" she asked, following the story from his comment on Qui-Gon's healing skill.

Surprisingly, Kenobi laughed softly and rubbed the back of his neck. "You would think that, but no. The apartment was empty, so we left out the back to see if we could find a trail. I was a bit eager to continue the chase. There were a small group of stairs leading from his door to the platform level. One of them was chipped by the wearing of time. I hit it wrong and fell, cutting myself on a sharp piece of scrap at the bottom." His smile was self-effacing. "There weren't any med facilities nearby and I had this eight inch long cut down the left side of my back. My master was quite skillful with a needle and thread a poor old woman brought out. He minimized the pain with the Force, stitched the wound and wrapped it with my belt and pieces of my torn shirt, and we were able to question a few neighbors."

Lyra winced at the idea of being stitched. "I've always hated the thought of what the poor beneath Coruscant have to suffer in the absence of the riches above."

Obi-Wan nodded knowingly. "I had to suffer a few hours. I can't imaging having to live days and weeks with some of the remedies they have to put up with. I know there are charity missions in the underground, but it's definitely not enough to serve everyone. And the Senate drones on and on." He stood up and headed over to the brewer to start on his master's tea.

"And the supplier?"

He sighed and pulled out a mug from a cabinet. "It turns out there was no murder plot, at least not one directed at anyone personally. The supplier was an untreated, mentally ill psychopath who just wanted to hurt people as much as he was hurting." A beep announced the water was now boiling. He poured and threw in some tea leaves. "Not one of my favorite missions."

Qui-Gon got up from his bunk right on time without prompting. "Nor mine," he agreed, accepting his cup. "Thank you, Padawan." He looked through the ration cabinet mournfully, selected a sweet energy bar and sat down. When he dipped it in his tea both padawans scrunched their faces and he pretended not to notice. "But the story has an important lesson in it."

"Watch your feet," Obi-Wan replied wryly.

His master shook his head. "The lesson is that attachment is blinding. You cannot fault the Senator for loving his son and wanting the child to be well-adjusted. The key word there is 'wanting'. But in the absence of what we want we must be mindful of what is. In this case the Senator sought to shield himself from the truth of an unhappy, substance addicted child. We cannot know the dynamics of that child's home life, but we can use the story to remind ourselves to see what is and solve problems that need solving directly. Failure to see prevents action, allows trouble to fester."

Both the master's apprentice and their charge accepted his teaching with the reverence due him. And then they turned their conversation towards other, less heavy issues. Three people alone on a shuttle voyage could only converse for so long, however, and pretty soon Qui-Gon instructed them in a group meditation exercise that would attune their senses one to another.

He was not shy about revealing the Darkness they would have to endure when they reached their destination. Lyra knew of this, having heard it from her predecessor in letters of the past. Her aunt had been open with her thoughts, opinions and the truths she had come to learn over time. One of these truths was her own study of the Darkside of the Force. Lyra had been concerned, hearing this, knowing this woman's thoughts and skills would become a part of her, but she took comfort in the knowledge that somewhere in there her aunt had come to see the Lightside of the Force and had wanted to change the history of their family line.

Still, it made Lyra uncomfortable to know very soon she was going to be thrust onto a planet where her inner self would be vulnerable to the Darkside. What if she failed in herself to cling to the Lightside? What if she let the temptation reawaken things Melyssi had once desired?

These thoughts were with her when she awakened around midnight. She arose from her bunk and sleepily wandered into the 'fresher. A splash of cool water helped her wake up, brush aside her fears. It was comforting to feel the gentle liquid, to feel the coldness revitalize her skin. The sensation made her thirsty and when she left the 'fresher, she went to the kitchenette to get something to drink.

After she poured she saw Master Jinn alone in the cockpit, reading from a data pad. He looked up, having sensed her focus on him, and motioned her to approach. Setting her glass aside, she took a seat in the second row diagonal to him. "Master?"

He set the data pad on his lap and peered back at Obi-Wan's sleeping form. His stormy eyes were filled with thoughts she could not fathom. It seemed he was choosing his words carefully, troubled by something he knew he must say but did not want to. Lyra waited patiently.

"There is no easy way to broach this," he said finally, folding his arm across his abdomen and reaching a hand up to stroke his chin. When he finally started, she noticed he had trouble meeting her gaze. It made her wonder. "I told you I was a friend of your aunt. We came to know and appreciate each other very well. Perhaps... perhaps too well."

It took a moment for her to understand what he was saying. When she began to suspect, she felt her cheeks start to warm and mentally kicked herself for reacting. She could handle this like a Jedi. She could. "You mean..."

He glanced at her, then sighed. "We were intimate." At this he did look at her directly and she sort of wished he wouldn't. Sex wasn't against the Jedi Code. No Jedi was forced into celibacy. It was only attachment and possession that were forbidden. She reiterated to herself that she could, in fact, handle this like a mature Jedi as he continued. "I tell you this because I feel it fair to prepare you beforehand, though I'm sure with your aunt's knowledge inside you, it won't be quite as surprising to you then as it is now. But preparing you is the right thing to do. And I tell you to apologize."

Lyra blinked at that. Apologize? She shook her head. "There isn't really any need..." Couldn't he have just let it be a surprise for when she had the mind of an adult? It was only a few days away, after all...

Qui-Gon rubbed at his temples, gave Obi-Wan another glance to make sure he was still right where he needed to be—away from this uncomfortable conversation. "No, there is a need. And I do apologize."

"Then you regret it?" Why did she say that? Why would she say that to a Jedi Master?

He looked at her sharply and she wished fervently she were back in her bunk. At home. On Coruscant. "I regret that we weren't more conscious of what this would do to you. When you accepted her memories you were supposed to be my equal in rank. And I an old man. Never having crossed your path in any personal way. And now..." Somehow the image of him fidgeting with the data pad on his lap would stick with her, she knew. It took a lot to make a Jedi Master ill at ease. He kept nudging it with his fingertips and it seemed absurdly funny to her in the wee hours of the morning.

Brushing her hair back behind her ear, she steeled herself and said, "Look, I don't really... I mean it doesn't, I'm not... angry or, or it doesn't," when did she forget to speak Basic? "I'm just trying to say, I'm not going to hold it against you."

"You really should reserve your judgment until you've experienced her knowledge firsthand, you know," he said somewhat ironically. Resting his hand on his chin, he looked out the view port at the blackness of space. "If you feel I cannot act as your steward, if you feel there is anything in her memories you need to inform the Council, anything that breaks the Code, I will not hold you responsible. You should do what is right, always."

She shook her head. "Part of being a Xara is a strict agreement of nondisclosure unless it directly involves danger to someone else. Taking someone's memories involves learning and accepting how human we all are, deep down. You have to be able to accept without judgment the intimate, the embarrassing, the failures, everything we all wish to hide. This much Melyssi had time to teach me through her letters. And from what I have learned of you these past few days, as purely myself, I can say I still believe you to be a great and wise Jedi Master. I'm not afraid." Not much, anyway.

Qui-Gon nodded once, looked her gently in the eyes. She found herself certain there would be nothing unendurable in those memories. Not from this man. "I appreciate your faith in me. You will make a wise Jedi yourself, with such openness to the frailties of the flesh. You're very attuned to the Living Force."

"Thank you, Master." Lyra offered a smile, then left him as he went back to his reading. She took another glass of water to her bunk and reached for her own data pad to while away an hour or two until she was settled enough to go back to sleep. It wasn't long before she was on her side with her data pad tucked into her arms, the screen black from having powered itself down after its mistress fell asleep.

oOo

 _From the personal journal of Padawan Lyra Xedryn. Pre-Transference._

 _The Force has a twisted sense of humor._


	2. New Sight

Sins of the Sons  
by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

Disclaimer: I make no money off this. Star Wars belongs to Disney. Yay!

oOo

When they landed it began. What was once a warm, comfortable feeling of serenity now became tainted with the flowing tendrils of a dark touch. Slow and sleek the Darkside crept along the surface of Xhal, seeking to corrupt the unwary. The unwary was not Qui-Gon Jinn. The power smoothed along the lines of his awareness with a seductive pull that whispered suggestions of anger and hate into his mind. He had not felt this touch in a long time. It was heavy, closing around his chest like a vice and leaving him short of breath.

It held no sway over him. Death of a friend was part of life. He could be furious that someone with whom he had shared so much of his being would soon be beyond his reach forever. He could give in to despair that here was a problem beyond his ability to solve, that someone he cared for suffered losing control of her body, her sacred temple that housed the luminous being she truly was. But what would it gain him?

The master allowed himself a moment of refocus, then moved his senses over the padawans in his care. Both were unnaturally subdued in the presence of the Darkside. He could feel their disquiet mirror his own, could see it in Obi-Wan's face when he turned to look at him. "Be mindful," he reminded them, then stood up from the copilot's chair to signal them to movement.

"How could anyone stand to live here?" Obi-Wan mused as he followed.

Jinn led the duo out of the shuttle onto the landing platform that adjoined a great manor by a dark sea. It was about midday, which left them in a dim sunlight broken up by large flakes of snow that fell in droves. By the time they reached the entry where there was roofing to shield them all three had a fine coat of white in their hair and on their shoulders.

There a man stood, regal in bearing and hair as white as the snow that wept around them. He did not have the shining eyes that Lyra did, meaning he was not a Xara, a Force-user. Qui-Gon had explained the strange genetics that paired the eyeshine trait inexplicably with the Xara trait and only the Xara trait, which meant no other humans on this planet could benefit from darkvision.

The man bowed deeply at the three of them, but his attention was riveted on Lyra. "Xara Astlyr Xedryn. Welcome to the house of your birth, the House of the Faithful Ones. Welcome home. I am Groundskeeper Lian Sorynn, your servant."

Lyra awkwardly nodded her head. She was not accustomed to reverence. No Jedi was supposed to accept it. He wondered how that would change once the Transference was completed. "Groundskeeper Sorynn," she began, trying to match his nobility in her young, unwieldy way. "My caretakers Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"We welcome you back, Master Jedi" Sorynn said to Qui-Gon, then gave Obi-Wan an acknowledging bow. "And your padawan. Come. Lady Xedryn awaits in the Hall of Tranference."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "Then it will take place right away?"

Sorynn gave him a grave look. This did not bode well. Not at all. "The Xara is, let us say, eager to avoid any situations that could hinder the process. And she is not well. Not well at all. Believe me when I say it is in everyone's best interest to see her legacy passes without incident." He turned, leading them into the large estate.

Qui-Gon threw a look at Obi-Wan, telling him without telling him to keep an eye out for trouble or clues that anything was amiss. His padawan had already picked up on the tone of the servant and nodded his agreement.

The estate was one of many windows, to allow as much light in as possible to combat the darkness, but mirrored on the outside to prevent curious eyes from spying. In the tall entry hall bulbs like stars sprinkled downward to provide their shining brilliance, and onward into the hallways they dripped down the wall like glowing tears. He noticed both padawans taking in every detail as they had been taught, seeing without seeming to, but their skill exposed by the expertise of a Jedi Master.

He found himself growing more apprehensive with each step. He wanted this walk to seem like an eternity because it would mean that much longer before Melyssi was gone. Yet his desire was met with the opposition of distracting thoughts and emotions, and before he knew it they stood before a dark wood door that opened by handle, not electronics. She had shown him this door once, but did not open it.

Sorynn let out a breath as he turned, as if this duty were one which hung heavy on his heart. "Master Jinn, she requests to see you first. Alone. And then Mistress Astlyr, alone. After that you may all three be present for the Transference, if you wish. Usually these things are private, but we have been commanded by the Xara to be transparent with the process in accordance with the trust she has given the Jedi. Master Jinn, if you would?" He opened the door and motioned the master inside.

Folding his arms into his robes at his abdomen, Qui-Gon entered. It was a large room, but the focal point was at the center where two beds were placed side by side. One was empty. The other held a woman with shining eyes and a wan smile. She reached out a hand attached to an arm that was much too thin. When he clasped it he felt his own hand tremble. "Melyssi," he said in a thick voice. He was glad Obi-Wan was not here to see him weakened.

She laughed at his pain. She would. "I know. This isn't what either of us expected when we crossed paths again. But you need to stop being sad right now, Qui-Gon Jinn. You're ruining the moment."

He laughed back. It felt bittersweet to do so. "Of course. What was I thinking? I am first your servant, then a man."

"Just like I taught you," she teased him. Why had he waited seven years to see her? Her eyes caught his regret even before he was aware he was showing it on his face. Memories passed down century after century to host after host gave one a certain keen insight into human psychology. She squeezed his hand to let him know the past was gone and didn't change a thing between them. And he found he could let his regret go easily after that. Melyssi was more interested in the now, in _his_ now. "You have another apprentice?"

A feeling of fresh pride washed through him as he nodded. "Obi-Wan. He's going to make a great Jedi someday. I have no doubts about that." He had told her about Xanatos, of course. About the betrayal he had suffered, about the promise he had made himself never to take another again.

Her smile returned; it shown on her pale lips and in her tired eyes. She hadn't said anything in judgment of his choice to remain without another padawan, but he had known she wasn't impressed by it. "I'm glad you trust again," she said to him fondly. "I like dying with things to be happy about." Words that cut him didn't seem to phase her. She was never one to hide from the truth. "Tell me about my niece," she commanded and he could do little more than obey such a soft mandate.

"I don't actually know much about her. I've kept my distance over the years." Melyssi rolled her eyes at him briefly, but he was firmly convinced it had been the right thing. "What I do know I've learned over the voyage here. She's connected with the Living Force and because of that she sees into people's hearts skillfully. She is perhaps a bit timid, but makes up for it in determination. Unfortunately, her coming here with me as her guide wasn't a choice, but a consequence of tragedy. It is believed that her master, Elren, has been killed. We hope differently, but the circumstances..."

"Yes," Melyssi interrupted with a sorrowed look. She glanced at the door as if she could see her flesh and blood through the wood. "I have a feeling..."

"Don't," he interjected, giving her hand a tug that drew her gaze back to his. "The future is not laid out before any of us. You know this."

Her expression flickered darkly, then smoothed back into one of love and regard. "You're right, of course." A sudden weariness seemed to wash over her then and he felt the heaviness of his grief again rest on his shoulders like a carrion bird waiting for its prey to sink into oblivion. He mirrored Obi-Wan's thought: how _could_ anyone stand to live here? Melyssi tugged his hand back, much weaker than he had done her. "Come and kiss me goodbye, Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master."

When Melyssi gave a command, one obeyed, even if he was a Jedi Master. He leaned over the bed, hands on either side of her and she tipped her head for his ease of access with a impish little expression that made him chuckle. It was as if he were pressing himself against air, she was so slight from the illness. Still, her lips were warm when he captured them with his own and gave her his lingering kiss.

It wasn't until he pulled away that he remembered a very young padawan was going to both know of that kiss and feel it in her own thoughts pretty soon. The idea filled him with conflicting emotions—joy at what he shared with Melyssi, guilt at what would pass to the girl. Melyssi saw his discomfort though he could swear he had schooled himself perfectly. She laughed at him. "You're going to make this so much more difficult than it needs to be." Her hand found his before he was fully away from her and squeezed again. "Don't worry, stern teacher. It will get easier and soon you'll wonder why you were so afraid."

"Mmm," he groaned doubtfully. "I'm not fully convinced of that. But I _am_ convinced you take a certain sadistic pleasure in driving me crazy. It worries me for my future with her. I can't escape at the Temple."

Her lashes fluttered prettily. "You'll probably have to leave the Order, my dearest."

He again folded his arms around his abdomen and shook his head at her. "Please, for the love of the Force, think of that child."

Melyssi lifted her hand to her mouth and blew him a mocking kiss just before Sorynn led him back to the door. Once outside he felt himself come down from the confusion and conflict, found himself able to center himself again. He noticed Obi-Wan give Lyra a reassuring nod and was glad the boy had gotten over his apprehension. Moving to stand by the wall of windows across from the door, he stroked his chin thoughtfully and stretched out his senses, looking for anything unusual. What was it that was troubling the Xara and her manservant? He could feel no danger, no malice other than what was normally hanging around the atmosphere like a shroud.

Obi-Wan came to stand at his side. "What do you think is really going on here?"

The master could feel his apprentice also stretching out his senses. He sent out a flash of approval, knowing it was partly in pride for his padawan and partly because seeing death made one aware of everyone a person loved. The younger man gave him a soft smile of appreciation. Qui-Gon turned his vision back towards the snow flurries outside. "I'm not sure. The illness is usually a defect from within, driven by genetics. Yet Lyra claimed there was no family history. It seems...unusual."

"Did Lady Xedryn give you any clues?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No, and if she felt there were any danger to either us or Lyra, she would not." He took a deep breath, rehearsing to himself what he knew of the politics of Xhal. "The Xara are usually a very tight-knit group, but there were some that were surprised by her choice to make her heir a Jedi Knight. I'm not sure it's enough to drive a murder, but when dealing with the Darkside anything is possible."

"Do you think the Darkside is blinding us to the danger?" Obi-Wan asked him, and Qui-Gon felt that was indeed a very good question.

"I don't know."

He wondered how he would handle the situation if more clues did present themselves. Clearly if Melyssi knew something she was not eager for him to know as well, which was exactly the opposite of what he wanted. He knew she had no lack of trust in his abilities, however, and that gave him pause. Perhaps if there was a situation behind the scenes there was no solution and to brood would only be harmful.

Qui-Gon was not happy with this complication and knew she would only tell him to put it out of his head if she knew. Which was precisely the most difficult thing she could ask of him. He could not put this before the needs of his charge and she knew that, and it was aggravating. It wasn't from spite or distrust and he wanted to believe the best thing _was_ for him to just lay it aside, but it nagged at his senses.

The meeting between aunt and niece was a little longer than he'd been given, which was understandable. Soon Lyra would know everything Melyssi did, true, but the elder deserved to know to whom her legacy would pass. Melyssi had no children of her own, had never actively sought them. Her sister had not been born with the Xara trait, but her daughter had. Life was funny sometimes, especially if the Force brought about events.

When the door opened Lyra motioned them welcome for the ritual. Qui-Gon steeled himself for it so that he would betray no feelings during. Obi-Wan followed him in and bowed at the lady prostrate on her bed. Her smile for him was warm, cordial as if she already knew him. It was her way to put others at ease. "You will take care of your master for his old friend, won't you?" she asked him boldly.

Obi-Wan nodded once, respectfully. "Yes, my Lady."

With a grunt, Qui-Gon clapped his padawan on the shoulder. "He already does, stubborn though his master might be."

"I bear the burden so that no other may have to suffer it," his apprentice offered in a tragic voice.

Melyssi laughed richly at that. "I like this one."

By then Lyra had lain down on her own bed, looking nervous and resolute at the same time. Her hand stretched between the beds and without looking Melyssi took it in her own. Obi-Wan was positioned central to the two women, while Qui-Gon stood at the Lady Xara's feet. He kept his eyes on hers as a stranger, the healer Qui-Gon surmised, placed an electronic crown upon her brow.

Without ceremony or word, she closed her eyes and the transfer began. Lyra tightened her hand even as the older woman slackened, watching the process from her place across the way. It was a quiet, solemn thing that happened in the space of only a few minutes. At the summons of the device the healer removed it and moved to Lyra, who took a shuddering breath as it was then placed on her head.

Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan would be watching over the other padawan, and so he let himself linger on the face of his former lover. Emotion broke upon him like waves during a storm. He could feel himself weakening and raced to repair the damaged walls around his heart. Obi-Wan drew his Force awareness away out of respect, not wanting to pry, and Qui-Gon felt himself regretting the need for such boundaries.

When Lyra opened her eyes she was a new being. Not the young padawan with too much caution between she and her goals. Not the woman who he had befriended so long ago.

The healer moved back to Melyssi and took a hypodermic infuser in his hand. His voice was soft and compassionate. "I now consign you, Lady Xara Melyssi, to the Force. May all who have gone before accept you into their embrace." Qui-Gon moved closer to her even as the physician was speaking, reaching for the hand Lyra had dropped and taking it in his own. He sat on the edge of the bed at her hip and as the doctor placed the infuser at her neck the sound it made when administering the euthanagen was harsh, much too harsh for this moment.

Qui-Gon watched her breast fall a few more times, trying to ignore the sound playing again and again in his mind. Then she was gone and he was unable to move. His eyes closed, seemingly of their own volition. He could hear movement around him, could sense his padawan's sadness at his own. And he could sense Lyra fighting herself, feeling now every urge to comfort him as her aunt would have and knowing she should not overstep her bounds. He could even sense her hand stretch toward him, but she never did let it touch. Qui-Gon raised a forestalling hand, trying to let them know he would be fine in a moment.

Lyra placed a kiss on her aunt's forehead, then she and Obi-Wan left him alone with her.

A moment more, just a moment and then he would have to face reality again. When he opened his eyes he looked at her, but saw the woman from seven years ago. They had met on a planet closer between Coruscant and Xhal, and had left with plans to meet again. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

But it was. Qui-Gon laid her hand on her abdomen and stood up, consigning her to the Force in his own way.

He collected his thoughts and feelings, had them neatly arranged by the time he left the room. Outside Lyra and Obi-Wan were listening to Sorynn explain that any quarters in this great mansion were hers, now. Every object, every servant, book, plant and stray animal that walked in the yard were subject to her desire. She selected a room near the gardens at the back of the estate, a place Melyssi had enjoyed.

And then she turned her shining, knowing eyes on Qui-Gon. He felt the knowledge of her gaze and it unnerved him a little. "You and Obi-Wan will be given rooms beside mine if we stay, Master Jinn. But we can leave whenever you want. Now, if you wish."

He nodded, thankful she restrained the Melyssi inside her that probably wanted to force him out of his state of mild shock. "It is traditional that you spend tonight in reflection on the new memories you have. Out of respect for the agreement between the Jedi and the Xara, I insist you take that time here and not on some shuttle, uncomfortable and forced to subsist on rations."

The corners of her lips twitched at that. "Yes, Master. Thank you. In that case Sorynn will see a good meal prepared for us in the dining hall later." The way she was able to transition between commander and commandee in a handful of words was definitely new. There were minds other than Melyssi's inside her, he knew. He wondered what Melyssi had been like before her Transference. It usually happened when the recipient was around thirty and the host did not have to die in the giving. He had known her afterwards and had never thought to question her until now that it was too late.

The three of them followed Sorynn through the halls as the sky outside grew steadily more dim. Near the gardens Lyra was given the suite she had selected and Sorynn offered the master and his padawan the suite across the hall. They agreed to part until dinner. Inside the suite Qui-Gon sank onto a comfortable couch, laid his head back and closed his eyes. He could feel Obi-Wan trying to sneak up a gentle shield around him and peered through a half-lidded gaze curiously.

Obi-Wan had settled into a chair nearby. He didn't back down bashfully at being caught. "I feel the Darkside attacking you most of all, Master," he said quietly. "This place is heavy and sick. I hope it doesn't change her. Do you think it could?"

He was deflecting, but Qui-Gon let him, content that his padawan cared so much. He was reminded by the conversation earlier that Xanatos would have done no such thing. He would have reveled in his master's weakness, used it as further proof of the strength of the Darkside over the Light. "I don't believe so," the master replied earnestly. "From what I gather the Transference doesn't change the person's core being. It only makes them more skilled, a little wiser. Certainly that Melyssi desired her heir to use the Lightside will protect Lyra to a degree." He closed his eyes again. "Why? Did she say something to you?"

"No, no." He could feel the padawan relaxing, but that shield was still in place. "It's just this place. I don't like it. It makes me feel like something of the Darkside is on the horizon, stalking me to break me."

"It will strike you where you are most vulnerable," Qui-Gon warned him. "How can people live here, you asked? By becoming part of that darkness. We will leave soon, but first I'd like to ask her if Melyssi knew if something was amiss with her illness. But not tonight. Tonight is for Lyra."

Obi-Wan did not sound comforted by the thought of trouble. "And if something was amiss?"

Qui-Gon looked at him gravely. "We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

oOo

Morning on Xhal was a dark affair. An hour after waking it still looked coldly black outside. In her room Lyra held a navy blue dress across her form, trying not to let the view from the windows effect her mood. Coupled with the flowing mists of the Darkside it was simply oppressive to see no a struggling sun.

The dress had been a favorite of her predecessor's. It flowed well, had an attractive color and the cut had flattered Melyssi. Yet with a certain amount of somewhat childish satisfaction Lyra found the dress something far from her own tastes. Being a Jedi didn't mean one couldn't appreciate the beauty in things they denied themselves, but she could not appreciate this and it gave her relief to begin finding little ways in which she differed from her aunt. It meant she was not Melyssi reincarnated. Through her memories she had come to love her aunt, but she enjoyed being herself, a Jedi destined to save lives.

She put the dress away, where it would likely never see the light of day again. Dinner had been an easy-going affair last night. They had kept the conversation steered towards neutral topics so as to strengthen their inner serenity to keep the Darkside at bay for at least a few hours. It had been nice to simply enjoy talking about the Force, the Temple, light hearted memories of missions and the happier things in life. Today Qui-Gon would ask what was on his mind. Through her new knowledge she had insight into the Jedi Master. His suspicions will have begun on the shuttle when first she mentioned her aunt's illness. Even without new insight she could have guessed as much.

A brief tap in the Force from Obi-Wan let her know her companions were ready to leave for breakfast. Lyra glanced briefly in the mirror and smirked at her newfound awareness of her appearance. Melyssi had used her presence as a tool to maneuver people into whatever emotional state she would have them in. She had seen the beauty in the Lightside, but she certainly had been no Jedi.

Outside her companions were waiting and they began to walk together. "I hope you both slept comfortably," she offered by way of greeting.

Qui-Gon nodded once. Of course he was experienced enough that he could fall asleep anywhere by now. Obi-Wan was still a little bit young for that. "It was very comfortable," he said. "Certainly more than a cot in a tent out in the middle of the jungle like last mission. I think I still have the scars from the bug bites."

His master quirked one side of his mouth up. "He exaggerates. A grand total of two insects breached the sanctity of our tent that trip, only one of which found himself equal to the might of a Jedi padawan."

The young apprentice shot Lyra a look. "They were big. He killed the one that bit me with his lightsaber."

"The butt of my lightsaber, not the blade," Qui-Gon clarified. Then he relented and came to the rescue of his padawan's trailing dignity. "Still, the venom wasn't something to toy around with. Dealing with someone who is feverish enough to hallucinate that his Master is trying to harm him instead of heal is never a fun exercise. I almost got a lightsaber myself."

Lyra grinned at Obi-Wan's expense. "You two see an awful lot of trouble."

"Mmm," the Master hummed wryly. "And now that you know us, you'll likely find trouble yourself, although I've heard Elren wasn't exactly a stranger to it either."

"It only takes knowing our names for the trouble to find you," Obi-Wan assured her as they entered a breakfast nook near the kitchens. At the table Lyra pressed a thumb pad that would alert the staff where they wished their meal.

They sat down as the first rays of the sun began to find their way to the estate. Lyra watched the sky start to turn blue, reassured there was some light on this planet. When she turned back to her companions as a servant laid out water for them she saw stormy eyes gazing at her and knew it was time to talk serious. "Lyra, I'd like to ask you something about Melyssi, if you wouldn't mind."

"Of course, Master," she replied respectfully. People generally liked to believe they were difficult to anticipate. A Jedi Master was, by experience, used to others that could do just that at times, particularly where the Council was concerned, but it would not do for a padawan to do so with her elder. And so she waited for him.

The two men exchanged looks. That they had conferred without her was not unexpected. They were a unified pair; she was the outsider here. The truth of that made her miss Elren terribly. Qui-Gon pressed forward, unaware of her change in emotion. "I would like to know if she had any sort of thoughts about the nature of her illness. If she thought it strange, perhaps, or if anything were wrong."

Lyra had been thinking carefully about how to answer this, but it didn't make her any braver to answer, "She did. However, she did not wish me to share her thoughts with you."

Jinn cocked his eyebrow at this. Obi-Wan watched his master, toying with the rim of his glass. "I see," the Master said in a neutral tone, but she could see he was not happy. "Was there a reason for that?"

"She knew you could do nothing but harm yourself with the knowledge." Her new memories had taught her the value of bald honesty. It could draw ire, but much less than hiding the truth in the long run. "There is no proof of her suspicions and the Xara will not act without it. What is left is an avenue for revenge. An avenue she did not want you to take." That would disarm him after a while.

He nodded without comment and turned his eyes towards the outside, watching snow drift off nearby trees. Lyra sighed. She herself had searched those memories carefully. There was nothing that could be done. Melyssi had been poisoned, it was true, and there was no cure for it. The Xara knew this already, had investigated and come back with nothing. Melyssi had her suspicions, but without proof there would be no justice. Qui-Gon killing the guilty party—a Xar Melyssi thought resentful of her choice to bring the Jedi closer into Xaran affairs—would destroy all she had wanted to build, not to mention himself, a man she had cared for deeply. He would come to see this in time. He was too wise not to.

Breakfast was brought to them and the scent gave her a little comfort. She could remember a predecessor some 200 years ago that enjoyed this dish. It brought a smile to her face to think of her. "I take it we're about to taste pure bliss by that smile on your face?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to diffuse the tension.

Lyra nodded. "It's pretty good. One of my many predecessors used to eat this by the sea in the summer."

The other padawan took a bite and let himself explore the flavor. "Not bad. A little sweet, perhaps."

"Uncultured swine," she accused him playfully.

"You've grown terribly mean since your Transference," he shot back, then tapped his master's hand with the back of his. "You should try this."

Qui-Gon took a deep breath and pulled himself back into the present. "I have. I concur with Lyra." He took a bite, swallowed and explained, "Obi-Wan is one of the most knowledgeable armchair connoisseurs of our age, or so he would have us believe. I remain dubious."

His apprentice looked scandalized. "Armchair connoisseur?" Obi-Wan shook his head at Lyra. "A growing young man has a certain love affair with food during his formative years, that's all. Nothing, not even Mace Windu can alter this force of nature. Is it the same for girls?"

"Oh, yes," she agreed fervently and Obi-Wan wiped his fingers with his napkin, reached across the table and shook her hand, then went back to his meal.

"So you have more memories than those of just Lady Melyssi?" he asked her curiously.

Lyra nodded. "Memories have been handed down in a line for eons by now. I have many different memories from many, many sources."

He seemed very surprised by that. "How can you possibly keep track?"

"I can't," she confessed, finding the idea of it daunting. "Xaran memories are usually only good for about ten thousand years before they have degraded and been replaced by newer host memories. The Xaran frontal cortex is altered to accept and copy many more connections than the normal human brain, but to carry all is impossible. As it is, around 5000 years you barely recall the names of whose memories came before. The oldest memory I clearly retain I believe is around 7000 years. It's just a red curtain against a wooden floor. Nothing else. No name, no context, nothing at all."

"The old curtain story," Qui-Gon mused, half to himself. He looked up. "I think Melyssi said whoever it was was a very young child at the time."

Lyra searched her thoughts. "I can remember her thinking that, but not the actual feeling itself."

Something occurred to Obi-Wan then. She could sense him reach a conclusion. "So wait a moment, you're going to know more now, aren't you? You'll surpass everyone in classes?"

"Not in everything," she assured him with a blush. "I've never been a Jedi before."

"Swordsmanship?"

She swallowed, guilty. "Maybe."

Qui-Gon chuckled and elbowed his apprentice. "Maybe you should test her."

In response Obi-Wan looked at his master shrewdly. "You're walking me into a trap, aren't you?"

"Would I do that?"

"Yes."

The trap was laid out in the courtyard in the center of the manor. Stone and snow surrounded the two combatants as they waited for the word from their master, who stood on the sidelines, one arm folded and the other hand stroking his beard thoughtfully. After the traditional shake of hands, both padawans removed their weapons from their belts and assumed ready poses. At this Qui-Gon gave his blessing and the two began the dance.

The tried and true Jedi method was to tire your opponent out so that you could seize rather than kill. Of course, if they both attempted that nothing would get done, so Lyra took the offensive straight away and flew at Obi-Wan, hoping to catch him off guard with her sudden attack. A look of surprise did cross his features, but it didn't slow his response time. When her lightsaber flashed a jet of green light his way he blocked flawlessly and darted to avoid another blow.

She didn't let him escape for long. Closing the distance, she swiped again and again and again, but scaled back the strength of each thrust to keep her energy in reserve. In a real setting it wouldn't take a blow driven by all a Jedi's physical strength to land a killing or disabling hit, only contact with skin and bone.

Obi-Wan blocked all three sweeps and attempted to trip her up with a kick aimed at her calves that made her jump. On her way down he managed to knock her off balance with his power, a split second that made her waver, but she was quick to gather the Force and throw it back at him. He flew back into a snowy tree and came out covered in white, shaking it off his head.

She was still on the ground when he dove at her. Lyra rolled away quickly, but he was already on her again, spurred on into the offensive by her own relentless drive at him. Their sabers met and sizzled, and she smiled across the blades as she shoved him backwards. He ducked a swipe of her blade and returned with a sweep-kick that nearly took her down. Her reply was to kick his lightsaber out of his hand.

It flew across the stone floor and he darted away from another kick aimed at his hip, stretching his hand and calling his weapon back to him. Obi-Wan ignited it and turned to block just in time. Again the blades sizzled, but this time he was he who smiled. But instead of knocking her back, he backed off himself, inviting her into his space so he could grab her wrist and attempt to twist the lightsaber away.

The dance went on for what seemed like it must be an hour or more. Qui-Gon circled them at a safe distance, watching and assessing each stroke and counter-stroke, each inflection of the Force, each choice the apprentices made and their emotions as they made them. And when Obi-Wan finally found himself without a weapon, back to the snow, his master nodded thoughtfully. "Why did she beat you?" he asked, folding his arms into his sleeves.

Lyra reached down to help her fellow padawan stand. Obi-Wan dusted the snow off himself and replied, "She's more skilled."

Qui-Gon mulled that over and shook his head. "Not by as much as you suppose. You're mostly an even match for her. There are a finite amount of moves in a battle technique like swordsmanship, and she doesn't know them all, even as you do not. No, where she had you was anticipation. And that is the strength of her knowledge. Wouldn't you agree?" he asked a form standing across the courtyard.

He had not announced his presence, but made no move to apologize for intruding. His hair was long and white, and his countenance piercing despite obvious only appearing in his middle years. Tall and noble of bearing, the newcomer had a derisive look on his pale face. His eyes shimmered in the dim light. "I must admit I am duly impressed. I would not have dreamt a Jedi capable of meeting a Xara so skillfully." He sneered down at Obi-Wan. "Particularly a Jedi whelp."

Tightening her jaw, Lyra hissed, "You are not welcome here, Thaurn." She could not hold back the venom in her voice.

Thaurn let a smile touch one corner of his lips. "I am not allowed to visit my dearest cousin, even after all these years? I am truly sorry I missed the Transference. Who knew it would take place so quickly, before anyone could have their say? You were but a babe when you were snatched away from our family." He turned a brief glare on Qui-Gon, then held out his hands to her. "Greet me?"

"I would sooner greet a snake," she shot back, trying not to allow her emotions rule her. It was so tempting to give in, to allow the rage to take hold and radiate from her.

"This exercise is over," Qui-Gon interjected, coming to stand beside the padawans. "Perhaps we should take this reunion indoors." Where the guards were. She knew then he sensed the danger she felt.

And just like that it passed. Thaurn dropped his hands, his smile gone. "No need for you to join us," Lyra told him coldly, then deliberately stalked past him, showing her back so he would know she had no fear of him.

The other two Jedi joined her. Thaurn did not. When they caught up to her, Qui-Gon said, "He killed her." It wasn't even a guess. She could sense his certainty, his barely restrained anger. She had a feeling she was not alone in her need to repeat the litany of the Jedi Code a few times to wash away the threatening fury.

"What can we do?" Obi-Wan asked, sounding no less eager for justice.

As they entered the lift that would take them back to their suites, Lyra leaned against the wall and rubbed her forehead in stress. She hated feeling this helpless and knew her companions mirrored that. "Nothing," she said, loathing the sound of the word.

Across the lift she saw Qui-Gon tighten his fist and she knew he was fighting with the dark. It was time to leave Xhal. She could not allow him to be tempted to fall.


	3. Endings and Beginnings

Sins of the Sons  
by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

oOo

 _A few years later..._

"Thank you for hearing me out." Jurnel Arrant was a human of middle years, but had the look of a man who had aged considerably under the burden of stress. He sat across from Qui-Gon and the two padawan learners at his back. Papers littered the desk. An open box filled with personal effects was haphazardly waiting on the floor. But it was the shadow in his eyes that caught Qui-Gon's interest, made him wonder if there was more to this story that meets the eye.

He selected his words carefully. "I appreciate your concerns. There have been many unusual decisions in the Senate lately that have the Jedi on alert. But I was under the impression this had already been investigated by a team of your own design."

Arrant nodded in concession. "That is true. My investigative team was as thorough as I could expect. But if you'll forgive me, they aren't Jedi." He leaned back in his chair, ran both hands through his thin hair and let out an expansive breath. "Yeah, it's a burn, this forced merger with InterGalactic Ore. I've already been called the nut-job who can't let go. And no matter what you find, the talks will go on as scheduled. Lommite Limited will become part of Dorvalla Mining, there's no stopping that. The Trade Federation is getting too cocky for my liking, I'll admit it. But there were lives lost and I just want to know why."

The two companies had put in a bid to sell lommite to Eriadu and had been sabotaged via a plot hatched from within both companies, both of whom had hired a criminal clan called the Tooms to make sure the opposition's ship crashed. The clan took both jobs in a double-cross that was discovered and the companies had united in a bloodbath on neighboring Riome where the Tooms had a secret base of operations. Evidence had been found that certain employees of both companies had joined together to destabilize the companies and force them under a united leadership. Arrant was not to be part of that new, grand design. It would be logical for him to be embittered by the change.

"I appreciate your faith in the Jedi," Jinn said gracefully. He believed this man believed there was more to find, but he wasn't convinced quite yet himself. "But you must realize that there is no guarantee we will find anything. The Force is strong, but if there is nothing to find..."

"Of course." Arrant played with the rim of his caf mug. The drink was untouched. "You ever been betrayed, Master Jinn?" The question caught Qui-Gon off guard, made his muscles tense because of his own experiences. Arrant continued, not having noticed the effect of his inquiry. "By someone you were so sure of, someone you wouldn't have dreamed would betray you?"

Qui-Gon's voice was tight with memory. "I have." He still dreamed of Xanatos sometimes. Sometimes they were good dreams. Most often they were not.

Arrant looked up at him sadly. "I'm sorry, Master Jinn. I really am. 'Cause I know it burns more than anything else." He absently moved the caf cup two inches. It was funny, the little things people did when they were lost in uncomfortable thoughts. He leaned forward against his desk. "I wish the Jedi would let me compensate you for your time."

The Jedi Master sensed a conclusion to this meeting drawing near. He pulled himself out of his chair. "No compensation is necessary. We only seek that justice is done. My apprentices and I will retire to our hotel and sometime tonight I will contact you with an answer as to how we will proceed."

The Corellian reached out a hand and Jinn shook it amiably. "Thanks. I hope you enjoy your stay on Dorvalla, for what it's worth."

The humidity would challenge that kind well wishing. Qui-Gon left the offices of Lommite Limited with Obi-Wan and Lyra in tow, looking forward to removing his warm robe once they were settled behind closed doors. The planet was an unkempt place with a populace steadily losing hope under the strain of mists of lommite and the mud that caked their shoes. There was very little in the way of law enforcement and most people just barely scraped by.

"What do you think?" he asked Lyra, who had taken stride at his left while Obi-Wan walked at his right. Qui-Gon found himself enjoying these missions with two padawans at his disposal. The realization made him smirk at himself. He had gone from swearing off apprentices to the epiphany that he was, in truth, a teacher at heart. Yoda had always been right.

He regretted, if only for himself, that this was the final mission he would have as Lyra's acting master. The interplay between the three of them warmed his heart and he would feel its absence. "I sense something on the fringes of my awareness," she replied. "Something darker than corporate politics."

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. "I sense it as well. It's not something blatantly obvious, or even marginally detectable, to be honest. It's like someone watching from the shadows."

Lyra nodded most seriously. "Like when you're holding a fresh pastry and Obi-Wan catches your eye across the dining hall." The other padawan gave her a mock-injured look.

They came to the entrance of the small hotel they had been offered by Arrant. It wasn't much, but it would keep the lommite dust off. Qui-Gon ushered them inside. Though their host wasn't able to afford much luxury, he had offered them a two bedroom suite so to preserve propriety where Lyra was concerned. They settled in the adjoining sitting room and Qui-Gon gave her an assessing gaze. "So you're of the opinion we should investigate?" This was her mission. He would let her decide.

Knowing this was a test of her abilities to make a choice without the input of a master, Lyra nodded without missing a beat. "I think we should at least check into the locations on Dorvalla itself before we decide there is nothing more to find. My instincts tell me something else went on here that most are not aware of."

The master nodded. "A sound choice. He mentioned a cantina where his associate Patch Bruit would visit."

"There was also an abandoned base up in the wastes where the Tooms hid out," Obi-Wan offered.

"The cantina would make sense first," Lyra decided after a thought. "Perhaps the bartender saw something."

The bartender, it turned out, had seen nothing unusual save for a Zabrak that kept to himself and didn't cause any trouble. Given the general rundown state of things in the city there were no security recordings to be had; most shopkeepers couldn't afford luxuries like that. Bruit had been a regular and nothing out of the ordinary had taken place in the days leading up to he and his company's demise.

These things seemed to disappoint Lyra, whose frustration shown on her face. That transparency would fade with time. Despite her 10,000 years worth of memories she was still young. He sometimes wondered what went on in a mind caught between two vastly different sets of time. She wasn't Yoda quite yet, but she had him beat in terms of recalling the ages of the universe.

"There's something here, or was sometime ago," she said, drumming her fingers on the counter after the bartender had busied himself elsewhere. She turned her gaze on Qui-Gon. For a moment those flashing eyes made him think of Melyssi. It always did. "Can you sense it?"

He looked around at the various denizens imbibing their spirits. "I can sense darkness. Anger and revulsion."

"And a need to prove oneself. Dark ambition," Obi-Wan concluded. He had a frown on his face. "If Bruit was as disillusioned with the mining companies as the recordings of his betrayal made it seem, he could very well be the reason behind these emotions."

It was a perfectly reasonable assumption, but Lyra wasn't having it. "This level of malevolence isn't what I would imagine of some manager who hated his job."

"Good," Qui-Gon praised her. "I would agree with that assessment. Still, we mustn't jump to conclusions. All we know is someone was feeling more than your run-of-the-mill malcontent. It doesn't necessarily imply anyone else was involved."

Lyra nodded her acquiescence. "Yes, Master. Shall we try the old Tooms base in the north?"

He offered her a quiet smile. "This is your mission. You command. I follow."

"You should order him to make us some tea," Obi-Wan said slyly, then schooled his expression into innocence when Qui-Gon turned a pointed look on him. "Well, it was just a suggestion. In the interest of teaching her the finer points of being a master."

"Naturally," he agreed with his padawan, clapping him on the back. "A very well considered bit of advice, my young apprentice. I'm glad you suggested it."

"Oh, blast," Obi-Wan groaned.

Qui-Gon laughed. "Indeed. When we get back to our quarters I think you should make the tea. Note I'm leading by example rather than letting her make the decision this time. It's important to vary your technique when instructing. Keeps apprentices on their toes."

Giving her fellow padawan a pitying smile, Lyra said, "We'll go to the wastes. After the tea or before?" She looked at Qui-Gon. "That's respectful consideration, not indecision."

"Afterward," Qui-Gon replied as they started to leave the cantina. It would be getting dark soon and they could do with a rest after being cramped on public transport. "Pay attention, Obi-Wan. She knows how to flatter a Jedi Master."

"So I've noticed," Obi-Wan retorted dryly.

Back at the hotel Obi-Wan fulfilled his duty without any further complaint. They sat in a triangle, Qui-Gon in a comfortable chair situated between two couches upon which the apprentices were seated. He contacted Arrant and told them they would investigate Dorvalla, at least, then later make a decision about searching Riome or Eriadu. In his honest opinion, based on his years of experience and his honed Jedi instincts, Qui-Gon believed Lyra was correct in her assessment of the situation. Something was going on here, something that had failed to make the official reports.

Just what that was remained to be seen.

oOo

The northern wastes were a nightmare. Arrant had supplied them with a covered speeder and whenever a covered speeder was involved, you knew the weather was going to be bad. But a Jedi was nothing if not brave and all-suffering. On the outskirts of the wastes, south of where the Tooms had made their base, there was a small mining village and the three Jedi stopped there first to ask questions.

Getting out of the speeder was a blustery affair, an event in and of itself. Lyra stepped into the wind and felt the chilly flakes of snow claw their way into her hood, giving her a shiver. Both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had their eyes squinted, hands raised to protect their faces. It was cold. Really, _really_ cold.

Thus they drudged through the white wonderland into the small village of scattered shacks around a small main street where a few commerce buildings stood. The streets were little more than mud and the walls of each place had seen better days decades, perhaps centuries ago. Passers eyed them warily, for here was a place strangers were rarely, if ever, seen.

Somewhere along the middle of the main street there was a small tavern into which the three hurried to get out of the wind. The door was of a hinge type and banged open when Qui-Gon turned the handle. Snow gusted inside and denizens glared at having their warmth robbed of them. Once the padawans were indoors, he shut it with a small bit of help from the Force. On the doorstep they shook off their cloaks and Qui-Gon motioned towards a small table across the way.

A seedy looking Nikto brought over three mugs of water that sloshed onto the table and said, "We don't get many strangers here. Much less Jedi."

"Don't like Jedi," a voice hissed from some indiscernible direction.

The Nikto growled and waved an irritated hand. "Still, money's money. You spendin'?"

Lyra couldn't fight the instinct to look to Qui-Gon for guidance, but didn't ask for it. He nodded reassuringly and she felt better. "An ale for my master." She wanted so badly to add, _Milk for the boy_ , but this was a serious mission, so she quashed the particular humor Melyssi's memories had gifted her. "Something gentler for me." She looked at Obi-Wan, who asked for a glass of Jawa Juice. At her sickened expression he shrugged with a smile.

The Nikto waited until she produced the credits, then wandered back towards the bar to fill their order. There were a small variety of customers inside, most of which comprised of humans and Niktos, with a few other species sprinkled in. Almost all of them were watching the trio with distrust. Lyra swallowed a bit nervously, but forced herself to relax. She would get the information she needed. There was an answer here and all she need do was trust the Force.

Their drinks were placed in front of them. She eyed her cup suspiciously, even as Obi-Wan sniffed at his. Qui-Gon took a drink boldly and seemed satisfied. The drink could have tasted like bantha sweat and no one would have known. He could remain unruffled under the direst of circumstances.

One of the humans nearby nodded at Qui-Gon's hand. "Didn't know Jedi drank."

"Every man needs his vice," their master answered, leaning back in his chair easily. Lyra and Obi-Wan shared am ironic smile at that. It was definitely not an excuse he would allow _them_ to use.

A woman of middle age at the bar grinned at his answer. "Speakin' of which, how much for an hour with the boy?" Several of the patrons laughed lasciviously as Obi-Wan flushed, embarrassed.

"Shut up, Maren," the human barked and she threw him an unimpressed glare. He turned his attention back on the Jedi. "Name's Ark. I'm the foreman around here. And I know enough about Jedi to know they don't come to small mining towns in the middle of nowhere unless they have questions. Shoot."

Qui-Gon remained silent. Taking her cue, Lyra said, "There was a criminal organization around these parts up until a few weeks ago. We're looking to understand why they suddenly left." It was always a gamble, letting the other side have knowledge about just how much you knew. She decided to keep it simple, let the townsfolk tell the story if they would.

Ark nodded. "Thought it might be something like that. Look, we told Arrant's boys all we knew about that. They believed what they wanted to believe."

"What do you mean?"

Surprisingly, it was Maren that replied. She turned in her seat, her dark hair falling on stooped shoulders and her green eyes glinting in black humor. "Think we don't keep an eye on these parts, girl? We're mining lommite. Believe me, we keep our eyes peeled." She looked at a few of the patrons meaningfully. "Was on patrol one night before the Tooms left. I saw something out in the wastes near their old base, something I never saw before or since. You ask me, it had something to do with it."

"And what was it you saw?" Qui-Gon asked her gently.

She laughed low, her eyes bright as she hissed, "A demon."

At that Ark rolled his eyes and threw back the rest of his drink. "Maren, you are something." He shook his head and motioned at an uncomfortable looking Neimoidian at his table. "Why don't someone with a little less taste for the dramatic tell it, eh?"

The Neimoidian shrugged, but underneath that play at unconcern Lyra could sense he was afraid. "We don't know who it was, or even what it was. Just a dark shadow in the snow. It might have been no more than that."

Maren barked a laugh, pointed at him. "Yeah, a dark shadow with burning gold and red eyes. No more than that, huh? Tell me it's just a shadow when it's slitting your throat in the dead of night." The Neimoidian shrank visibly.

"Come on," Ark growled at her, motioning for his employees to quit. He took another drink the Nikto barman handed off. "That's the story, anyway. I wasn't out there. Maren's little demon friend didn't hurt anyone or ever come back, but enough of mine saw it to make me believe it happened."

Lyra fished out more credits and put them on the table, saying, "Thanks. Barman, get my friends another round." The Nikto grinned at her viciously and disappeared behind the bar. She finally felt she had the courage and lifted her own drink, but Obi-Wan covered the mouth of it with his hand and shook his head. His own drink was barely touched but his expression said what he had sampled was not worth risking sanity to try.

Qui-Gon had finished his ale, but didn't ask for another. "I think we've got what we came for."

The padawans followed his lead and exited the small tavern, back into the biting cold. Rather than attempt to shout over the wind, they waited until they were once again safe inside the speeder before Lyra said, "We should probably take a look around that base, both inside and out."

"Agreed," Qui-Gon replied, pointing at a map on display as Obi-Wan started up the speeder. "I'm feeling danger. Be on your guard, both of you. I think someone here is unhappy with our presence."

"Our Jedi-hater," Obi-Wan surmised, taking off.

Their master shrugged his uncertainty. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. I couldn't quite pinpoint it. It's not a deep malevolence, but I think it's enough to cause someone or several someones to make a bad mistake with us. Keep your senses sharp."

They found the old base in a state of disarray. The three wandered in to flickering lights and papers strewn about, mixed in with various parts and old weapons. Standing in the center of the main lobby, Lyra closed her eyes and let the Force do the talking. Old emotions permeated the feel of the place, like blood and alcohol stains on the clothes of a mercenary. And something else, something darker.

She had felt this level of evil only in her memories as other people. It was young, hungry and violent. She could almost smell him. Him. Yes, it was a male presence. Most definitely male. Her breath fogged the air as she said, "Do you feel it?"

Near her, Obi-Wan nodded, also subdued by what was in the Force. It felt as if to speak up would draw the owner of the darkness down upon them and for a moment she entertained that this was the source of the danger Qui-Gon sensed.

Lyra turned toward their master, saw that his brow was knit in thought, his skin pale. "What is it?" she asked him and Obi-Wan turned, now aware of his master's distress.

"Nothing," Qui-Gon replied, gathering his serenity about him once more. He shook his head and schooled his features. "Just a brief feeling. Nothing more."

"Well, we all know what Maren has to say about 'nothing more'." Obi-Wan slid a piece of paper with his foot absently.

They sensed it all at the same time. Obi-Wan was the first to hit the door, followed by their master and Lyra brought up the rear. When they hit the snow they saw three forms surrounding the speeder, cracking into the hatches to get inside. Seeing they were caught, two of them lifted blasters while the third worked at stealing the transport.

The glow of three lightsabers lit up the snow. Two shots flung through the air, deflected by Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan flawlessly. Lyra took care of a third as Obi-Wan dodged a forth. "Get it open!" one of the thieves growled at their working companion. Lyra could feel his urgency hit the Force like a small wave.

It was the other shooter that had come out here not for a speeder, but for blood. It wasn't a hatred born of the blackest evil, but more the kind that comes from a bad run-in with the target of the hatred. He had undoubtedly crossed the path of a Jedi before and had suffered unforeseen consequences of less than savory actions. Lyra blocked a bolt from him and sent it careening toward the other shooter, hitting the blaster in his hand and destroying it. He cursed hard at the pain.

Qui-Gon was fixated on their main enemy. Obi-Wan dodged a blaster bolt from him, but was taken by surprise when something else flew out of the snow at him. He groaned in pain, but didn't back down from the fight.

Unfortunately, their third companion breached the speeder's entrance and started it even as he climbed inside. The one with the missing blaster threw himself inside and the final shooter cursed when Qui-Gon deflected a bolt and took out his weapon. As he boarded the speeder started flying, almost knocking him off, leaving the three Jedi to watch their transport disappear behind drifts of winding white.

Qui-Gon shut down his blade and motioned them back in the old base. Inside, Lyra looked over as Obi-Wan wiped blood off his forehead. "What happened?" she asked, slapping his fingers away and examining a bruised cut near his hairline.

"He threw a snowball at me," he huffed, sounding more irritated than anything else. His lashes fluttered reflexively when she wiped at the blood dripping down his skin. "Who throws a snowball at a Jedi?"

Lyra bit her bottom lip in an attempted to hide her smile. "I think there was a little ice in that snowball." Removing a spray coagulant from her belt, she took his chin and turned his head so she could apply it. "Don't be such a baby about it."

He said nothing, watching her face as she sprayed him, a scrutiny she found herself very aware of. When she finished she gave him a light tap on the cheek in a mock slap and made him sigh, "Women are cruel."

Sitting against a table, his hands bracing him as he watched the padawans speculatively, Qui-Gon laughed at that. "Congratulations, my young apprentice. You've finally learned the cardinal rule of the universe. I'll recommend you for the trials when we get home."

"You boys are awful. And you smell bad," she shot back as she folded her arms.

"Testosterone poisoning." Qui-Gon's voice was bland. He lifted his comm unit to radio in some help. The crackle and sputter told them they were in for a long night. "It's got to be the storm. Let's look around. Maybe they left a speeder or something."

oOo

When night fell they were still stranded. Qui-Gon elected to stand watch in case the storm let up or their unfriendly visitors returned. They had lit a fire near one of the windows and he kept his gaze on the snowfall while the apprentices slept. Or at least one of them did. Obi-Wan had entered a healing trance for his snowball injury, then drifted off not long after. Lyra was still, her eyes were closed, but he could sense her wakefulness in the Force.

He said nothing, content to ruminate on his own until she spoke, if she wanted to. He thought about the jest he had made to his padawan before, about recommending him for the trials. Obi-Wan wasn't quite as ready as Lyra was, but he would be very soon. Qui-Gon was filled with pride at the man he had raised from thirteen, knowing that in his apprentice was the makings of a great Jedi Knight. What Obi-Wan lacked in true appreciation of the Living Force he made up in wisdom and courage. In time compassion would flourish as well and he would have all the tools to do great things.

He wanted this for his padawan, hungered for each achievement for Obi-Wan so he could witness the boy he loved like a son excel even beyond the master. But it was bittersweet, in its way. Lyra had never truly been his, but she was leaving him all the same. And very soon Obi-Wan would as well. It made Qui-Gon feel his age a little bit more than usual. It would be lonesome to come home to an empty set of quarters. He would see them both on missions or just to visit, but there was something about being central in their lives that made him feel at home.

It was attachment, pure and simple. He would meditate on it, would brush it beneath Jedi training as a Jedi Master should do, but for a little while longer he let himself suffer because it felt human. And he wondered if it could ever have been this way with Xanatos, his first apprentice who had left him for the Darkside and later died in front of him. A part of him would always care that Xanatos had suffered, had never been able to truly touch love. Sometimes his thoughts replayed the possible things he could have said or done to change the future. But it did no good to dwell on the past.

Therein lay the danger of attachment. It could keep you chained to emotions and fates that prevented you from doing the things that needed doing so that others could be free to live and love without fear. He had never been particularly good at keeping attachment at bay, not completely. That flaw in him had almost kept him from knowing Obi-Wan, for fear he would be betrayed and suffer again. But that flaw had also moved him to nurture Obi-Wan into an extraordinarily bright light in a universe mired in shadows. The dichotomy of attachment was an enigma, even to the wisest Jedi, Qui-Gon believed. As difficult to predict as the future.

"What are you thinking about, Qui-Gon Jinn?" Her voice blended with the calm still of the darkness instead of disturbed it. Sometimes she would revert into what he privately termed 'Melyssi Mode' and would say things that pulled at his heart. Like his name.

He turned to see her flashing eyes on him. She was on her side, knees curled up and arms crossed over her chest. Over the past three years he had allowed her to join he and Obi-Wan on a handful of missions to augment the teaching of the other masters. His apprentice had become her friend fast after that first visit to Xhal, which had also brought her into their quarters for downtime as well. They would still have that. He let out a held breath and said lightly, "Things an old man thinks about."

"Well, you're not losing your hair, so that must mean you're thinking about aching bones," she teased him and he shook his head at her brazen humor.

"Yes, well, I'm not quite Yoda yet, I'd like to think." He pulled a ration bar from a box they had found and threw it at her, which she caught with all the ease of a Jedi. Taking one out for himself, he toyed with the packaging absently but didn't open it.

Neither did she. "You looked troubled earlier. Did you sense something bad?"

Of course. She wouldn't let it go. Neither would her predecessor. This time Lyra and 'Melyssi Mode' would have to suffer. "A thread of malice among many possibilities. Nothing more. The future is always in motion."

She didn't look satisfied and would have pressed him if not for him holding up a forestalling hand. So instead she sat up, opened her ration bar and took a bite. "That's definitely not a hot meal," she observed mournfully. "So, what does an old man think about?"

Qui-Gon smirked as he tore open his ration. "Mostly about how his padawans are deserting him one by one."

Lyra's eyes softened at that. "They grow up so fast." She took a drink from a warm bottle of purified water. Her disgusted expression at the warmth made him want to laugh affectionately, but he held it in so he could enjoy it instead of prompting her to erase it. "Well, _I'm_ not deserting you and neither will Obi-Wan. You should know better than that."

"I do," he assured her, taking a drink of water as well. It wasn't all that refreshing, but it washed the food down.

A sly smile reflected back at him. "All masters get weepy at a knighting, don't they?"

He awarded that remark with an amused look, repeating,"Weepy? I haven't quite reached that stage."

Her laugh was different than her aunt's but still full of the Living Force. It was beautiful when people laughed. And at that thought Qui-Gon chastised himself for being a sentimental old fool. That flash of the Force earlier had certainly affected him more than he had thought it would, had made him think of his own mortality in a way he never had. He found he didn't care for it.

Her smile didn't fade with her laughter. "Well, if you do, I won't judge, Qui-Gon."

At that he returned her smile, lifted his water bottle in salute. "Much appreciated." He polished off the bottle and cast aside the rest of his ration. "Attachments are difficult to avoid, no matter what the Code says," he said thoughtfully, glancing at Obi-Wan. "One needs to be very careful if they choose to allow it. My first apprentice taught me that."

Her eyes didn't follow his to the sleeping apprentice nearby and he chose not to elaborate on the direction of his thoughts. "Why did you allow it with Melyssi?" Lyra asked him and the naked honesty the question asked for made him tense for a moment. It was easy for him to see inside others and feel compassion without condition. Not so easy was letting them see inside him.

"I felt I could without allowing it to destroy me." It was a simple answer for a complex question. Sometimes the Force was like that, at least for old rule breakers like him. Sometimes you just knew what lines could be crossed without danger. Sometimes you didn't. Worst were the times when you thought you knew and were proven wrong. It was a gamble that forced one to consider what was worth the risk and what was not. For him Melyssi had been an easy choice, right or wrong. He turned his gaze on the young woman before him. "Did she ever worry she'd made the wrong choice with me?" he asked her.

Lyra's soft expression made him feel at peace. "Not once."

It wasn't Arrant that rescued them from their predicament that night, but the foreman, Ark. Questioning his late shift employees about missing blasters had led him to hearing about the theft of the speeder, and in turn he had come to investigate the truth, figuring it was better to have a Jedi as an ally than an enemy. The thieves had been reported to Arrant, who would bring them up on charges. Dorvalla would yield no more insight into the investigation of the Jedi, and neither would a later trip to Riome. Not even a security recording of the so-called 'demon' could be traced.

But the demon would find them. And he would leave devastation in his wake.

oOo

 _From the personal journal of Knight Lyra Xedryn. Post-Naboo._

 _I felt him die. I sit in my quarters here on Alderaan, barely able to see the data pad before me for the tears staining my face. My mission isn't done, but I can't think of it now, can't plan or even imagine trying tomorrow. I felt him die._

 _Sitting in the chamber, trying to come to an arrangement between Senator Organa and the Commerce Guild, I sensed a great disturbance in the Force. It caught me off guard, felt like a blast to the heart. I felt him die, and parts of my heart die with him. I knew, even before Senator Organa called for break, even before I contacted the Temple on an emergency channel. I knew it was him, that he was gone forever, that my future was now robbed of its spirit._

 _I felt him die and when I entered my quarters I threw my lightsaber, breaking a glass sculpture, and I laughed inside at the shattered pieces as they flew. I cut myself trying to clean up, and I still wear the blood on my hand as a banner of my pain._

 _Qui-Gon, my master, my friend, my lover from another time. Why have you left me?_

oOo

The halls were dark and silent the night she returned to the sanctity of the Jedi Temple. For most the peace of it was not an illusion. The masters, knights and padawans would be sleeping, most of them, tucked away under a blanket of training and repose. Yet to say that to a Jedi peace was a given, that they were untouchable, was a fallacy. And tonight she was among a handful of those who were both touched and still brooding.

Knight Lyra had a destination in mind that was not her quarters, even at this late hour. She could sense a mind across the slumbering paths of the temple that was kindred to her own, suffering the silence alone. He waited for her, sensed her thoughts upon him and his disrupted Jedi calm. When she reached his door it opened without her beckon.

Obi-Wan stood with his back to her, eyes set among the stars outside. When she entered he turned with such a look of profound sorrow that she felt her heart muscle clench. Without much thought she sank onto the couch near the door and watched him approach wordlessly. His padawan braid was cut; his hair was uniformly short now.

Standing before her, he whispered, "He's gone."

"I know," she said and her eyes moistened with that pronouncement.

"I failed him."

Lyra shook her head at him, face filled with compassion, aura with certainty. "No. You did your best."

He could hardly speak, was falling toward an abyss of pain. "I could have been faster."

"He could have been faster." It was a hard thing to say. She saw him flinch at it and continued. "I could have been there. Master Windu could have. Any of the three of you could have chosen a different hall. The Jedi could convert to blaster usage, could wear armor, could destroy whole planets to kill one Sith. Obi-Wan, where does it stop? Some things just happen. You did your best. He knew it. I know it. You will find no condemnation here."

He nodded softly, his hands fidgeting before him as if he were a lost child. She supposed he was. And like a child who has found his only parent dead to him forever, Obi-Wan sank to his knees, wrapped his arms around her waist and laid his head on her lap as his emotion finally took him out with the tide. He trembled as he wept for his fallen master. She trembled as she ran her fingers through his hair, trying to comfort him. And for a little while they both pretended they weren't Jedi, that they could revel in their anguish freely.

Lyra thought about Qui-Gon's kindness to strangers. The Force, skill in battle, diplomacy, teaching, these were great things indeed, prime examples of a life well lived. But that kindness, she felt, was his crowning achievement. In a universe of pain and greed and hate it was only the truly exceptional that learned the key to healing souls was building light inside them instead of only tearing down walls of darkness. For when the darkness was gone, with no light there would be only emptiness left. This knowledge elevated Qui-Gon Jinn to among the greatest of the Order.

And now that light was gone. One wasn't to mourn the loss of a Jedi to the Force. She did. Not for his sake, but for the universe he left behind.

Minutes slid into an hour as she meditated upon her friend, and vaguely she became aware that Obi-Wan's storm of grief had subsided and been replaced by even breathing. He was asleep in her lap and she had no will at all to wake him. She pet him gently and moved her eyes to the hallway leading to the bedding area.

"You can come out now," she said into the dim.

Slowly the form of the life she had sensed appeared at the apex of the hall. It was a boy, about nine or ten years old. That he was dressed in Jedi attire and was marked by a braid made it a certainty he was here as a padawan to Obi-Wan. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second at the sight of her eyes, then approached fearlessly. _What's this?_ she asked herself, even as she smiled at the boy.

"Hello, Ma'am. M-Master Jedi," he corrected himself. His eyes trailed down to the sleeping knight between them. "I didn't mean to listen, but I was awake. He hardly ever sleeps. And..."

Lyra smiled inwardly at his race to explain himself. Had she ever been that young? It felt like forever since she had been as innocent. "And?" she prompted him kindly.

The boy had a far away look suddenly. When he said, "I'm sad too," she wondered how much information she was still missing. Yoda had hastily explained about Qui-Gon over the communique, but the story of this boy had been skipped. "Did you know Qui-Gon?" he asked her.

The question did not catch her off guard. She had never seen this boy around the Temple, but more than that it was strange for Obi-Wan, barely a Jedi Knight, to suddenly have an apprentice who was under the usual age of around thirteen. From that and the well of sorrow inside him she could only infer that he was intertwined in the events surrounding Qui-Gon's death somehow.

"I knew him," she replied. "It was my privilege. My name is Lyra Xedryn, a Knight and friend of both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan."

He reached out a polite hand for shaking and she took it, impressed by his unabashed friendliness. "Anakin Skywalker. I was a slave. On Tatooine. Qui-Gon, he...he saved me, brought me to the Temple. I miss him." He again looked at Obi-Wan, eyes unreadable. "Qui-Gon was going to train me, but now..."

"Obi-Wan agreed in his stead," she guessed and wasn't disappointed. Now she was beginning to see.

Anakin nodded and rubbed a mysterious trail of salty water from his cheek with his sleeve. "He thinks I don't know how sad he is, but I can feel it. I hear him pacing in here a lot. When I ask he always says he's fine. But he's not."

Lyra let out an expansive breath and absently rubbed at Obi-Wan's shoulder. "He's trying to be strong for you. All masters do this. Would you do it for someone you had to take care of?" He thought a moment and nodded. "Why?"

"Because I wouldn't want them to be afraid or sad." He bit his lip, looked suddenly dubious at his own answer. "But it doesn't work. I still am."

She laughed gently. "That's the part masters forget, I think. How perceptive their students really are and how hard it is not to know their master's thoughts."

"So what do I do?"

"Be patient with him. He needs you just as much as you need him." At this Anakin appeared to steel himself as if preparing for a difficult mission. She could see why Qui-Gon had taken to this boy, could feel the Force surrounding him, radiant and powerful. It was no wonder to her that the Council had taken him in, even at his age. He would be one of the greatest of their time, of many times. And she liked him for all the same reasons she thought Qui-Gon probably had, even though they had just met. He was kind and strong.

Obi-Wan gave a soft moan in his sleep that reminded her she was not alone with this child. "I think we should wake him so he can go to bed," she said, though she hated to disrupt such a peaceful slumber.

Anakin gulped. "Do we have to? If he finds out I've been eavesdropping again..."

"Again?" She cocked her eyebrow at the boy, mock-sternly.

"Uh, oops." His head lowered a little and he looked at her through hooded lashes, truly chastened.

Lyra shook her head with a smile. "I think Obi-Wan needs the comfort of his bed, don't you?" She started shaking the sleeping knight gently.

It didn't take much to rouse him. He straightened with sandy eyes, yawned and noticed his apprentice watching him for any signs of ire. "What are you doing up?" He then noticed where he was, looked up at Lyra sheepishly. "Sorry."

"I was awake when Master Lyra came in," the boy confessed, playing it easy as if it were no big deal. He was a smart kid.

Obi-Wan gave him a pointed look. "Were you listening in on my conversations again?"

"He was concerned about his master," Lyra interjected, coming to Anakin's rescue. "He was telling me how sad he was about Qui-Gon. How sad you _both_ are. You aren't sleeping well, are you?"

"New lesson," Obi-Wan said, addressing Anakin instead. "Don't rat your master out to his friends." He pushed himself off the floor and sank into a nearby chair as Anakin said, "Sorry?" Obi-Wan reached out tentatively, as if bonding were a strange concept, and gave the boy a comforting touch on the shoulder. "I'll survive. But we're going to have a conversation about eavesdropping in the morning, I think. If you're awake enough to hear it."

"Yes, Master," Anakin replied a little sullenly. His master motioned him off towards the bedrooms and the boy turned to Lyra. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too," she offered, smiling warmly at him. As he hustled off to bed, she turned her gaze on her friend. "He seems pretty concerned about you. He's bright and powerful."

Obi-Wan stifled another yawn. "He has a higher midi-chlorian count that even Master Yoda. Qui-Gon believed he was the answer to the Prophecy of the Chosen One." He threw a glance over his shoulder towards the bedrooms. "I guess I'm not as subtle as I'd hoped. How did you find out about Qui-Gon?"

The memory of that awful emotion washed over her. "I felt it happen. I was in the middle of a conference and...I just knew." His hand breached the distance between them and took hers comfortingly. She squeezed back. "Later I contacted the Temple and Yoda told me about Naboo, about the Sith. I wish..."

"You wish you had said everything he probably already knew," Obi-Wan finished for her and she nodded. Those blue eyes of his went far away, reaching through time with a now unquenchable hunger. "I thought he would watch me grow as a Jedi. Be proud of me when I became master as well."

Lyra felt tears strain at her lashes and wiped them hastily. "I've been imagining all the small moments I could have had with him. Things he would have said. When those moments are stolen the mind has to compensate and live them anyway, I suppose." All he could do was agree quietly. It was still hard to talk about it, still felt like the knife remained in the flesh. It would take time and patience. And rest. "Listen, I want you to go to bed, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Sleep and sleep well, or I'll _make_ it happen."

He laughed at that, but it was a pale imitation of what it would have been just a few weeks ago. "I suppose I'd better be having Anakin sample my tea for drugs while you're here at the Temple."

"Very funny, Master!" a voice yelled from across the quarters.

Obi-Wan groaned, wearing a stern expression. "What am I going to do with that boy?"

Standing to leave for bed, Lyra smirked down at her friend. "Love him, I'm sure."

"Yes, if he lives through tomorrow's lecture on etiquette."

Another shout, a point well made, if Lyra did say so herself. "It's not my fault these quarters are tiny! Sound carries!"

"Anakin, go to sleep!" Obi-Wan stood with her and for a moment that lost look returned as he regarded her. "I see the exhaustion in your eyes as well. I'll make you a deal. You sleep, I sleep. Agreed?"

She smirked at his draconian bartering techniques."Agreed."

He showed her out and now alone in the silence of the lonely halls she could almost believe she were walking through some horrible dream after which she would awaken and Qui-Gon would still be alive. She sensed Obi-Wan moving in his quarters, drawing closer to his room near Anakin's, and she hoped that spending his grief would allow him to rest now.

When she reached her own empty rooms she dressed for bed, basked in the cool comfort of the sheets and pillow, and closed her eyes. It wasn't until the sky started to lighten that she finally found the dark.


	4. Dromund Kaas

Sins of the Sons  
by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

oOo

 _Obi-Wan_

It was a world of darkness. The sky was purple with night, caressed by spidery tendrils of lightening that gave any stray viewer only a bare hint of the path that lay before him. Thunder rolled in the distance as a beacon to the unwary and a forest of swamp plants slithered along the wet earthen floor like stretching fingers. He stood with this silent terror at his back, his face passive and a veil of peace about his shoulders. Before him stretched a sea of swampy forest, and at its beach a small ship as the backdrop to two forms approaching.

A breeze ruffled his ginger hair, stirred his cloak around his feet. Obi-Wan Kenobi scanned the skies and wondered if there would be rain. "Now I see why the younglings scare each other with stories about this place," his apprentice commented as he looked around. "Not very welcoming."

His companion smiled at his assessment. "I don't know. I think it's atmospheric and beautiful in its own way." Lyra had always been able to appreciate the things in life that had no obvious attraction. She could extract what was interesting and study it without being ruffled by the bad.

Dromund Kaas was definitely one of the more difficult places in which to assign beauty. In fact, Dromund Kaas wasn't supposed to exist at all. One of the original Sith worlds, it was thought little more than a myth up until his own fateful finding of Kamino. Kamino's erasure from the Jedi Archives had drawn the keen eye of Master Yoda, who had investigated further possibilities of deletions and found evidence Dromund Kaas was all too real. Because of the dark, fearful rumors surrounding the mythos of this world he had asked a small team be sent to ascertain the truth of its existence in a highly top secret mission to the Esstran Sector.

Enter in Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker and Lyra Xedryn, Obi-Wan's friend since his padawan years. Because of her proven ability to work well with Obi-Wan, Yoda had allowed him to extend the request that she join them. And, perhaps, because of the evil of this place. Where one master and his apprentice could be overwhelmed, two masters might prevail.

The evil here was no legend. Not anymore. Obi-Wan could feel it clawing at his mind as a beast with razors on their fingertips might rend his flesh. He almost regretted bringing Anakin, uncertain he cared for the effect this place might have on the younger. This wasn't like when he had visited Xhal the first time. The darkness there had been child's play compared to what he felt here. Xhal was a whisper and Dromund Kaas was a howl.

They were on the edge of what scans had identified as a great city in ruins. There were no lights ahead of them, no sign at all of sentient life except the bones of empty buildings littering crumbled roads. Echoing Obi-Wan's observations, Anakin said, "This place is dead. What are we doing here?"

Not for the first time Obi-Wan wondered at Anakin's inability to stand in awe of great power. Not that one should reverence the Darkside by any means, but to feel this place was to know great and terrible energies could be harnessed by the hands of imperfect beings. It left Obi-Wan in awe of the discipline, the sheer mastery of the Force such power required. And of the great and terrible things that could be done with such power.

"We are here, my young apprentice, to catalog what we see and make a report on the state of planet," he replied, stretching out his senses even as they began to enter the abandoned city. Anakin still had so much to learn of what it meant to be a servant of the galaxy. Sometimes it meant saving lives in the heat of battle. Sometimes it meant investigating the seemingly innocuous.

Anakin frowned, peering at the dusty, time-damaged buildings. "Doesn't look like there's going to be much to catalog." He kept stride with his master and Obi-Wan could feel the younger man sweeping the area with his senses as well. "Don't you think we would have sensed any sentient lifeforms by now?"

"Not necessarily."

The padawan seemed satisfied there would be no arguing himself out of this mission, was intent on keeping silent until a gasp tore out of him. He wavered on his feet and reached out a hand to Obi-Wan's shoulder to steady himself, glaring at the ground as a little lizard darted away. "I didn't see that coming," he said, then knit his brow thoughtfully, letting his hand drop from his master. "I can't sense it. Can you?"

Obi-Wan looked away from Anakin briefly and saw the lizard crawling up a broken down pillar on the side of the path. It stuck its tongue out as if to mock that he couldn't find it in the Force, then scuttled away into the rubble. "Interesting," Lyra said, watching the place where the lizard had been. She cocked her head toward Obi-Wan, but kept her eyes on the ground. "Maybe we should make the apprentice capture one for science." Her voice was amused.

Predictably, Anakin groaned at that and shook his head. "You've got to be kidding me. How am I supposed to catch it if I can't sense it?"

She laughed at his pained expression and asked, "How do you think non-Jedi do it?"

"They pay someone else, who then pays someone else, who then makes a droid do it." Classic Master Kholar teaching galactic economics through a somewhat cynical lens.

Obi-Wan chuckled at his padawan, gave Lyra a small reproving look. "Don't torture the boy so hard, so soon. We have hours, perhaps days to enjoy ourselves."

Anakin grunted at that, retorted with a bland, "You're hilarious, my Master," then looked at him slyly. "Besides, I think I need someone older and wiser to show me how it's done."

"We don't have the proper equipment for a seize and capture of an animal." He gave his apprentice a grin, glad to have a small moment of levity. They seemed fewer and far between since the events of Geonosis. Sometimes it seemed his padawan was further than ever from his reach. Since then there had been a subtle change between them that sometimes left only an injured silence in its wake. Something had happened, something his apprentice, whom he knew almost as well as he knew himself, just wouldn't tell him. He had never hidden so much from Qui-Gon and had no frame of reference in how to deal with it from Anakin. Where had he lost his trust?

Another hand rested on his shoulder. Lyra tapped him and pointed down the road, saying, "I think our trip just got interesting."

Obi-Wan followed her finger and saw a shadow some few hundred feet away, barely discernible from its surroundings. It looked like a hooded figure and for a long moment it remained utterly still, as if it were an image on a sign board. The effect was eerie, like when you're a child seeing a silhouette of something in the dark that turns out to be ordinary.

"It doesn't feel like a person," Anakin said in low tones, tracking the shadow with a relentless intensity. "Hologram?"

Obi-Wan didn't think so, but couldn't put a name to what he was feeling. "Or something else." All he could say for certain was that there was nothing made of flesh and blood waiting for them at the end of the avenue.

And then it moved, darting rapidly out of view so quickly the three Jedi twitched hands toward their lightsabers in reflex. Another minute or two passed as they scanned their surroundings for any sign of imminent attack. There was nothing.

"I sense danger, but distant, as if it needs to make ready," Obi-Wan said into the silence that followed the flight of the shade. "We'll have a look over where it was, but I don't believe we should go chasing it around the city if it starts playing cat and mouse."

Anakin and Lyra nodded their agreement and followed him across the distance. All around could be seen evidence of the swampy jungle eating the city, growing inch by inch, covering buildings in vines and lichens. The wind pressed against his back, brushed soft fingers through his hair and seemed to beckon him forward as it passed. He wasn't sure he liked feeling led on by what he felt in the Force. Who was doing the leading and to what were they being led? Lyra seemed subdued and mindful as they walked. Anakin was eager for the hunt.

The place where they had spotted the shadow was free of any signs of passing. There were no footprints in the dust, no disturbance of the flora crawling along the pavement. More chilling still was when Obi-Wan looked where the shade had darted and saw nothing but a dead end where a few first floors of old buildings huddled together, standing against the tides of time. He moved tentatively into a doorway of one, took out a hand light to peer inside.

Fragments of bone littered the floor among ancient tatters of cloth and a discarded canteen. Perhaps a scavenger had died of exposure here. Perhaps something more nefarious had killed him.

A crash outside made him jump, made the muscles of his back knot tensely as he whipped around. He could see his companions in a similar state, each facing the vision of a crumbling pillar as it rained pieces of stone in the wind. Anakin had his lightsaber out and ignited, and was already moving to investigate. "Eager, as always," Lyra commented, watching him.

Obi-Wan frowned, wishing his padawan would stop assuming his own immortality for once. "He never learns." How was he supposed to keep the boy out of harm's way if he chased it down every chance he got?

His apprentice circled the pillar, then shut his weapon down as he returned. "Looks like wind, but the timing seems a bit too spooky to me." Anakin swept a hooded glare along the city streets. "I don't like being toyed with."

"Neither do I," Lyra agreed, stepping out into the street. She looked at her male companions, her eyes stopping on his apprentice gently. "But let's not jump to conclusions, hmm? Irritation breeds anger."

Anakin shrugged at her attempt to disarm his eagerness for battle, but seemed a little less annoyed. "So, what now?"

Obi-Wan let out a breath as he scanned the ruins. A swarm of screeching mailocs rushed out of a window a few yards away and swooped down on an unsuspecting lizard. He could feel the pull of the Darkside tempting him to the west. The question was, was it on purpose? The heavy electrical charge on the atmosphere had blocked them from picking up on any signs of active electronics and visual inspection didn't offer any hints either, which left the west his only real clue. Why didn't he want to go that way, then?

"We must assume we're being watched by someone or something," he answered, wrapping his cloak about him tighter against the wind. "Therefore, I think we should avoid separating at all costs. Whatever we saw didn't give us much to go on, but this place feels too malevolent to risk going it alone." He glanced at Anakin as he said it. His apprentice noticed and looked away. "For our safety we should stay together. I learned well that separation can lead to devastating consequences when the Darkside is involved."

His apprentice softened at that, knowing to what he referred. It seemed the only way to touch him these days, to remind him of Qui-Gon and what he had meant to them. Obi-Wan felt no jealousy from that. He only wished that he could bridge the gap between them by virtue of his own affection. Anakin turned back, face showing a new willingness to follow his master's lead. "Okay, so what direction should we take? It all looks the same. I don't feel anything but the Darkside all around us. And..."

"And?"

It was Lyra who replied, "West." They all exchanged glances, then looked drew their eyes toward the direction that called them all. "There's no way to tell how far. I don't like it. Something wants us to go that way."

Obi-Wan looked back at her. "Are you sure it's intelligent? An actual desire for us to follow?"

She shook her head. Her shining eyes could see details in the dark that neither he nor Anakin could, but apparently it offered her no special insights. "I'm not sure of anything at this point. The Darkside is too strong on this world. I can't get an accurate sense of anything."

Anakin stared out into the city, seemingly transfixed. "So we go west." Only sensing their reluctance did he turn to face them. "Just for a bit. See if we see anything on the way. If there isn't anything remarkable then we'll come back, make camp at the ship and look at a map."

It was a sound strategy, which was why Obi-Wan agreed with a nod. The prospect of danger could be no hold against the Jedi. In fact they should seek it, with measured vigilance, that they could replace it with safety and peace. In the gathering darkness they set out, hands readily close to their weapons and senses straining for disturbance.

oOo

The ship was their only refuge against the torrent of rain that came with nightfall. They had walked a good distance through the city on their hunch there was something in the west, but had to stop if they wanted to avoid the encroaching darkness. Their shadow friend had not put in another appearance, but that coupled with the persistent feeling of darkness ahead of them made the Jedi trio feel there must be something to it. It was if as long as they kept walking, the shade was appeased and so had no reason to come out.

A few more of those little Force resistant lizards had crossed their path. They didn't seem to like the feel of the Jedi and never came too close, but at least they could confirm the first had been no fluke. In all her years Lyra had never encountered such a creature. She found little comfort in its existence. It made her realize how precious her connection to the Force really was and made her dread the thought of it ever going missing from her life.

At the ship they had scanned the west for any points of interest and found confirmation of their suspicions. Indeed there was something there, some few kilometers past the great empty city. They had taken the ship to a small patch of ground northeast of the temple but still within walking distance of the city, and there decided to remain inside the ship for the duration of the night. After a light meal on rations Anakin had retired when Obi-Wan offered to take the first watch.

He sat in the cockpit where he could keep watch on the moonlit swamps with Lyra sat at his side. With her darkvision she could see creatures moving around the great trees, some of whose eyes shimmered back at her. Beyond the trees they could see their destination. A great dark building loomed on the horizon and it was from there the Darkside emanated. Lightening flashes illuminated it, but it still stood cold and pitch-black, like a predator watching them.

"I hope we don't find anything sentient here," Obi-Wan remarked after a flash, followed by a crack of thunder that shook the ship. He took a sip of hot tea, leaning back as he watched the light show outside. "Anything intelligent that lives here must be corrupt beyond belief."

Lyra gave him an ironic, quiet smile. "Like on Xhal?"

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Point taken. But this place is very different. It's a nonstop battery of dark thoughts and feelings. I feel weighed down, like I could sleep and let the universe go on. It's taking a great deal of concentration to keep myself focused."

Lyra turned her gaze back outside the window. "I know the feeling." A Jedi could call upon the Force to augment their strength on a night of wakefulness, but the constant whisper of darkness made the task feel more difficult than it should be. If she could just rest her eyes a moment...

A thud made her and Obi-Wan jump. On the view port before them a lizard crawled a few steps, having leaped onto the ship, then settled. It had the nerve not to notice or care it was being scrutinized by two startled humans. Lyra felt the Force disappear from her senses and knocked her fist against the window, hissing, "Get off!"

Obi-Wan grunted and leaned his head back against the seat, wrapping his arms together to get comfortable. "At least it's blocking the Darkside."

"I know, but I feel naked without my senses," she retorted, knocking again and giving up in frustration. Obi-Wan was watching her with soft eyes and a smirk, which she returned with a playful slap to his shoulder. "Better hope Anakin can sense danger for us. I wonder what the range on those lizards is, anyway."

"What we'd better hope is that no one else finds out about these creatures." He hid a yawn behind his hand, glanced back where Anakin was sleeping. "Or that one isn't lurking around the back of the ship as well."

At the mention of Anakin, Lyra ventured to ask, "How are things between you two?"

His sigh told her before he even said a word. "I don't know. He still refuses to talk to me about what happened with his mother. And ever since then... I never thought I'd catch myself saying I missed my padawan being sullen with me, but now when I correct him he just goes silent. Oh, he's compliant enough, but there's almost no feeling behind it."

"There is no passion..."

"This is not serenity."

She had never taken a padawan of her own and couldn't completely imagine how it must feel to be so close to someone, yet so far away. "You said he is trying to make an effort to follow your guidance. He lost his arm because he gave in to his need to defeat Dooku. It might have brought him up short in a way no teaching could. Maybe he's trying to repress his baser instincts and silence is the only way he can do that."

"Perhaps." His expression was doubtful. "Or perhaps he's just trying to shut me up because he knows he'll just do what he wants anyway."

"You don't seem to trust him very much," she observed gently.

He knit his brow in thought at that, sighed and looked at her gravely. "Does really it seem so?"

"Maybe a little." His tension lessened when she gave his shoulder a reassuring rub. "I know you're frustrated and you have reason to be. Just maybe give him a little faith, hmm?"

Obi-Wan nodded after a moment, rubbed his tired eyes and knocked at the window where the lizard had fallen asleep. It didn't even open its eyes. "Maybe you're right. How did you get to be so smart?"

"Qui-Gon Jinn."

"Funny, since I was his apprentice."

"That's why you didn't get catch on as quick. Rebellious, teenage Obi-Wan Kenobi." She shuddered and he smirked at her mocking. "The perfect man to go clear out our unwanted guest up there."

He shot her a bland look, said, "You were master first. Teach me..."

Whatever he was going to say next got lost in their panic as the ship rocked hard as if it had been hit by large. The sound of the blow woke Anakin, who scrambled from the back with his weapon in his hand and demanded, "What's going on?"

Obi-Wan was already fast at the terminal, scanning the forest for lifesigns. "I don't know. Something's jamming the signals. I'm not getting anything around the ship or in the atmosphere."

"What about the city or that building out there?"

"Negative," the master replied, looking troubled. "I can't get a fix on anything."

Anakin ducked down to look out the view port, which was now mercifully free of lizards. "I'm betting it's coming from that," he surmised, looking up at the looming structure in the distance. The ship rocked again, and before anyone could answer the apprentice cried out, "There!"

The shadow was back and had brought friends. Lyra drew her lightsaber, looking to Obi-Wan for the word. He looked reluctant, but said, "We have to put a stop to this before they damage the ship."

Nodding in agreement, Lyra ran to the hatch, Anakin quick on her heels and Obi-Wan pulling up the rear. She opened the door, fully expecting to see something attacking the ship or some sort of torpedo en route, but there was nothing. She flew down the ramp, igniting her lightsaber and turning circles to find a target.

They stopped a few yards away from the ship and looked for any signs of danger. Anakin had his arms spread as if he were confused, looked to the masters for some sort of understanding that neither could provide. The shades were gone and the rain wept on. Then Anakin whipped around and said, "Do you feel that?"

That turned out to be several jurgorans, strong, carnivorous reptilian creatures with razor sharp claws. The first one leapt out of the swamp jungle at Obi-Wan, which he narrowly missed. Several more came out of the darkness, teeth showing as they hissed at their prey―the Jedi. Two broke formation at the jungle's edge and rushed Lyra, which incited more to join the fray and seek out Anakin.

One of the creatures howled as her lightsaber slashed through tough hide and cut an arm off. The other creature snarled and threw itself at her, catching her robe as she Force-jumped away. It slammed her to the muddy ground and started clawing her robe, drawing her closer to its reach. Lyra ripped herself out of her robe and twisted away, just as it gave a great tug that could have brought her into his waiting jaws. She rolled to her feet and ducked as another one swung at her, then drove her lightsaber into its chest.

The one that had clawed her robe was now crouched, ready to leap, and Anakin ran it through quickly as he passed by on the way to a group of three approaching out of the forest. Obi-Wan was in mid-jump off the side of one of the swamp trees and kicked one jurgoran into another one, causing their heads to collide. He landed deftly nearby, offered her a hand and helped her up in time to face down two more heading their way.

"I don't think this is normal," she commented, brushing water and hair out of her eyes. A jurgoran charged her, leaving Obi-Wan's response lost in the tussle. Lyra darted to the side at the last minute, then thrust at its back, missing by less than a centimeter. The creature took out its anger on Anakin, charging him next. The padawan had his back to it, already handling three jurgorans of his own, so she took off after his would-be fourth. It gave a cry when she caught up and drove her blade into its back.

Behind she heard Obi-Wan groan, but one of Anakin's jurgoran's had turned its attention on her and took a threatening swipe at her head, stopping her from looking. Breathless, the apprentice at her side ran one jurgoran through and kicked the other one away as it neared, then yelled above the rain, "Did we park in a nest of these things?"

"I don't," she ducked beneath raging claws, "know!" More were leaving the sanctity of the forest to join the frenzy. She had a feeling this wasn't the result of a nest so much as someone or something driving them into a deliberate attack. The lizard that had cut them off from the Force now seemed strangely convenient to her.

"There's too many of them!" Obi-Wan called out, even as four were stalking him. "We need to get to the city!" His lightsaber became a flurry of blue.

Anakin jumped over one of the beasts tearing at him, then dashed toward his master. Lyra felt him gathering the Force, saw the padawan crouch to jump, but the second his feet left the ground he tumbled clumsily back to the mud, all traces of him in the Force erased. Nearby several of the Force resistant lizards were darting out of the woods, driven by some unseen force. Several more followed.

"No," Lyra breathed, knowing this would mean disaster for them if they couldn't even access the Force. She ran to Anakin, grabbed his arm and jerked him up as she searched desperately for his master, screaming, "Obi-Wan! We have to get out!"

When he yelled back, "Go!" she almost fell back in relief, but when she saw that he was being backed away, further from them, she hesitated. One moment was enough. A jurgoran dug its claws into her shoulder and yanked at her, causing so much pain she felt her vision go dark. She remained awake, however, and the next thing she knew she was stomach down in the mud. The creature had thrown her when Anakin killed it.

"Master!" he yelled, even as he bent down to pull her up. "I'm coming to help you!"

"No!" The voice seemed achingly further away. But he was firm and certain of his own skill. "I'll catch up! Get her out!"

As Anakin took her hand she heard him swear viciously under his breath, but it didn't stop him from obeying Obi-Wan's command. He couldn't have gone to help his master in any event. There were too many jurgorans in the clearing, all of which had a desire for blood.

Anakin pulled her with him through the brush and mud, back toward the great city, leaping over fallen logs and ducking through vines. Mercifully, it wasn't far. The gate couldn't be closed, but if they could hold out in a building and pick off the jurgorans from above they stood a chance. Once inside one, Anakin let go of her hand and she let her back hit the wall as she struggled for air.

"Don't faint on me," he pleaded, also trying to collect himself. He still held his lightsaber, closed down, as he bent over and braced himself hands to legs to let himself take in sweet, precious oxygen.

Lyra reached up and felt her shoulder, cringing at the warm blood that slicked her skin. "Someone's trying to kill us," she said, and wondered if they might succeed.

Without warning Anakin kicked a fallen chair angrily. "I hate when he does this. I can't sense him through all this Darkside." Anger expressed, he stalked over to her and pulled back the tattered cloth at her shoulder, wincing at what he saw. He pulled the end of his cloak up, ignited his saber and started cutting off a long strip. "We can't just wait around."

As he wrapped her shoulder as best he could with what he had, Lyra nodded her agreement. "We'll try to circle around, assuming we can get out of this place without dying." He tied it off and she murmured, "Thanks," then pushed herself off the wall.

What she saw when she peered out the window made her heart sink. None of the jurgorans had followed them. Which meant they had all chased after Obi-Wan instead. Anakin's worried look suggested he had reached the same conclusion. His voice sounded dark when he said, "Come on," and went back out into the storm.

What they found back at the ship was even more distressing. Their ship had been left untouched. The Force-resistant lizards were gone. Two jurgorans loitered the area, growling at their approach but content to back off now, rather than attack. And near the foot of the forest, caked in mud, was a single, sputtering lightsaber.

Lyra forced down her horror and looked at Anakin without emotion, all business. "You take the right. I'll take the left. We head toward the structure. He'll be looking for shelter."

Anakin nodded once, then took off. Calling Obi-Wan's lightsaber to her, Lyra followed on her side, hoping beyond hope he had escaped.


	5. In Fear and Doubt

Sins of the Sons by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

oOo

He was dripping wet with marsh water and rain, and so utterly cold he couldn't remember the warmth of the ship. But this wasn't a cold born of earthly mechanisms. It was the Darkside searing him, all around him, folding him into its icy embrace. In the bleak temple all things were subject to the Darkside of the Force, even Jedi Masters arrogant enough to tread its halls. The thought brought him up short, made refocus his connection with the Lightside. It wasn't arrogance that had brought him here, but sheer need.

The heavy stone door was still wedged open a crack. He had left it so, seeing the jurgorans stop before reaching the temple, either called off or unwilling to breach the inner sanctum of evil. It gave Obi-Wan a feeble light, not to see by as much as assure himself he was not unconscious or dead in the pitch-black that would otherwise have stolen his visual senses.

His lightsaber was gone. The jurgorans had thrown him into the swamp and when he came back up the weapon was sparking at the end. His only option was to run, but one of the creatures took a swipe that knocked the lightsaber out of his grasp. There had been no time to call it to him. Calling the Force and hoping there weren't any lizards nearby, he had broke into a run toward the only sanctuary he could feasibly reach.

He was starting to second guess the wisdom of coming here.

Outside a jurgoran howled angrily, smelling its prey so close and yet so unattainable. Obi-Wan peered out the cracked door and saw a line of them waiting on the path. Groaning, he backed off and rested against the wall, wondering what to do about this little situation. He could sense neither Lyra nor his padawan, but knew there was only so long Anakin would wait before springing back into action. In this case perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing. He might just have to wait out their rescue.

Wiping rain soaked hair out of his face, Obi-Wan strained his eyes for a sight of a chair, a brazier, anything that could be used or even distracting. Nothing but the dark met his vision and to go further in would be foolish. And so he wrapped his wet robe tighter around him, for all the good it would do, and closed his eyes for a momentary rest.

A sudden heave at the door startled him out of his meditation. A jurgoran was reaching in, clawing for him, pushing the heavy stone. Obi-Wan backed away fast and came to a split in the hall where one became two, both leading to the same place. He would not have risked investigating, but for the faint light beckoning him forward. If he could distance himself from the creatures perhaps they would lose his scent and leave, he reasoned, and so followed the short curve into a huge room that housed an assortment of bioluminescent plants. It wasn't much, but it let him see large statues flanking a central path in the room.

It came to his awareness slowly that he was not alone, that there was, at his left and just at the edge of his peripheral vision, a figure standing utterly still. Steeling himself, Obi-Wan turned to face it. A tall form stood not five feet from him, sheathed head to toe in a black cloak. The hood was drawn and the Jedi's eyes could not penetrate the darkness within.

The voice was unnaturally deep, penetrating and carried with it ages of hate. "Long has it been since a Jedi has crossed my path." The word 'Jedi' seemed to echo in whispers, sharp hisses that made Obi-Wan tense in aversion. The figure took a few steps and stopped in front of him, slowly turning its head like a curious animal might. "To what do I owe this... _pleasure_?"

Again, the whispers. Obi-Wan felt himself grow faint at the sound, at the Darkside pressing against him. He threw the power back at the figure and tightened his hold on his emotions, forcing everything but calm out and shielding himself. "Passing through. I seem to have run into a few angry jurgorans. I'm sure they'll be gone by morning and then I'll be on my way."

The shadow laughed darkly. "A simple problem and a simple solution." It paced away, back to the Jedi, who could not for the life of him tell if this figure were of flesh and blood or something less tangible. "Very well, Jedi. I offer you refuge here. We will converse until dawn breaks and then, then you may be... _on your way_."

Obi-Wan didn't like the tone his host used, feared the mockery in it meant battle to come. He wondered if facing the jurgorans wouldn't be a considerably less dangerous path and said, "Don't trouble your-"

The figure raised his hand and Obi-Wan fell to his knees, his arms trapped at his sides. Turning, his host replied, "Nonsense. You fascinate me." It came to stand before him again, knelt down and watched him struggle. Even at this close proximity he could not see beneath that hood. Laughter filled his ears as the figure kept cocking its head this way and that. "You wish to see my face, my son?" He could see no face, but had the distinct impression of three eyes staring out, unblinking.

Tightening his jaw, Obi-Wan retorted, "I'm no son of yours."

A dark hand rested on his shoulder and from it came a searing cold, so painful it felt like a burn. The deep voice lowered to a whisper. "I am the father of all who are destined to touch darkness."

"Then it is as I said," Obi-Wan shot back, hard and certain, trying to roll his shoulder away and failing miserably. "And if I may say, that is an awfully arrogant assumption, father of _all_ darkness. You must be very old indeed."

The fingers dug into his shoulder, making him bend further down, but he held back his groan of pain. When the horrific grasp let up Obi-Wan felt nearly faint with relief. The shadow once again looked down on him. "What is age to the ageless? I have been born and reborn many times, and each new face pleases me more than the last. Do you know what face will please me the most?"

"Mine?" Obi-Wan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the predictability of the Darkside.

The shadow laughed and wiggled a finger at him. "Now who is arrogant, my son?" He paced a few steps, his cloak trailing him. It looked so real, yet didn't make a sound or appear to react to the floor beneath it. The creature stopped and turned, then waved its hand along the air as if wiping dust off a view screen.

There before Obi-Wan appeared an image of his padawan, older, tested by time. His hair was longer and he wore a scar down the right side of his face. Those blue eyes Obi-Wan knew so well were red, fiercely evil and yet filled with more sorrow than he'd ever seen. He turned his gaze darkly on the figure before him. "You're lying. You're trying to bait me."

"Am I?" It sounded amused, paced back toward him a few steps and shook its head. "Darkness need not lie when the truth is so painfully clear."

"There are many threads of truth in the creation of time," Obi-Wan pressed back vehemently. "That may be a thread among the remotest of possibilities." And this was precisely why Yoda taught that the future was difficult to read, because one could sense many possible futures and not know the events that would bring those futures about. Relying on precognition made one second guess their own nature and could thus bring about calamity.

But the shade was not one to give up in the face of reason, it seemed. Its voice was thoughtful. "Or it may be a certainty, a destructive force hurtling toward all that you hold dear, as inescapable as the end of all things." His hand moved and revealed more. Anakin bowing in the light of a red blade, Anakin destroying lives, Anakin standing over the body of a Jedi who wore sienna colored robes and had ginger hair, both grieving and darkly satisfied at the same time. On and on it went, each vision pouring hatred and suffering through the Force, each new atrocity reflecting the depths of darkness that birthed each act. When he saw Anakin murdering children, Obi-Wan turned his head, unable to take any more.

"And I am to take your word for it?" he hissed, surprised by his own anger at the shadow. He took a second, schooled himself and forced himself to meet the stare of his enemy without rage pounding through his veins. "Sith lie."

The shadow again laughed that chilling laugh and tossed his hand at the image of Anakin holding a metal blade, carving something that brought back blood, eyes almost loving as he worked. "Sith? I am so much more than that." It stood now directly before Obi-Wan and reached down, taking his chin in hand so it could force the Jedi to look up. "And you, my son, need only take the word of your own heart."

Fingers stretched down toward his chest. Obi-Wan could feel his lungs burn as the Force disrupted the smooth rhythm of his breathing. His heart clamored in his chest, struggling to move the river of life within, captive and strained. He would die here, he felt certain, but just as he saw stars the shadow let him go. He fell forward to his hands and panted for breath, reaching a trembling hand to rub his chest. "It need not happen that way," he breathed, sitting back on his knees. He fully intended to stand, but could feel himself still trapped, lowered before the darkness to feed its insatiable ego.

Formerly pacing, now the shadow whipped around and demanded, "And who will stop it? You, the author of the darkness to come?" Its voice echoed in the large hall, assaulted Obi-Wan with the malevolent joy it took in the vileness of its prophecy. It watched the Jedi Master's glare in amusement. "You truly do not know what you have done. I will show you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I will feast on each revelation of your failure."

That the creature knew his name lost the power to surprise him. Clearly this thing was aware of events beyond the reach of Dromund Kaas. And Obi-Wan steeled himself, knowing somehow this being would indeed show him all the little things he had done wrong. He had to keep these things in perspective. Creatures born of the dark would use anything to destroy a soul, and it was the mix of truth with lies that was most dangerous of all. He would be ready for this.

Unfortunately, the truth was difficult to ignore, even for a prepared Jedi Master who recognized manipulation when he saw it. The shadow filled his head with his own words, his voice sharp, cold. The things he had ignored, the ways he had driven Anakin away. He had ignored the Living Force for so long, so afraid of the pain of attachment that he had forgotten that in his trust was a young boy who knew nothing but that beings felt either love or vicious indifference. He had not trusted Anakin with the secrets of his own heart, not even with the abilities the child he himself possessed. Instead of allowing greatness to flourish, he had instructed it to die beneath the feeble rays of a sun empty of mutual respect and faith. He had waited for each flaw to manifest in the boy and had given rebuke that was not tempered in love, leaving behind a hopeless craving for affection and praise that would never come.

He could feel for the first time Anakin's pain at each interaction gone wrong, was now fully open in the Force to the aching the boy had lived with in the hands of a cold stranger who hadn't even wanted an apprentice to begin with. How many nights had Anakin wept, wishing for his mother? For Qui-Gon? For a young queen on a faraway world that had been kind to him? How many times had he lamented he could not be the padawan that would make his master happy? Love him? It was never to be. And hope had finally died...

"Stop!" he yelled into the dark, holding his arms up, blocking his face as if it could stop the visions. Obi-Wan could feel his eyes wet and made no move to wipe them. Instead he allowed his hands to crumble into fists, brought his crossed arms forward to rest his head on as he wept.

He was aware of the shadow kneeling in front of him again, laying comforting hands on his shoulders, drawing his arms down so it could see the waters of his grief stain his face. Obi-Wan shook his head, glaring at the monster before him. "I didn't do those things to him."

"But in his eyes you did," the creature hissed softly, terribly as it watched from beneath that black hood. "Intention holds no sway over perception." It reached up, drew the hood down and Obi-Wan tried to back away in horror at seeing his master's face. "My son. My poor, tired padawan." Even the voice had changed and it made him ache inside.

"You're not my master," Obi-Wan said, looking away because the creature would not let him _run_ away. It was a shock to see Qui-Gon's face, that kind gaze looking at him with such compassion and warmth. He missed him. Oh Force, he missed his council, his words, even his corrections.

The creature took his jaw and forced him to look up, back into those stormy blue eyes as he said in a stolen voice, "I _am_ your master. I see your fate and someday you will willingly give yourself to me. Unless..."

Exhausted of arguing, Obi-Wan fell into the trap and asked, "Unless what?"

The shadow played the part perfectly, made the perfect show of reluctant thoughtfulness. "There is one way you can stop the darkness from happening. One way to prevent his fall and your own." It leaned forward, spoke into his ear an intense and tempting whisper, "I give you the truth because I know you will not heed it, and in the future, when you realize what you should have done, your agony will bring me great pleasure." These dark utterances coming from the mouth of Qui-Gon Jinn made Obi-Wan ill to the depths of his soul.

From the recesses of its black robe it drew forth a blade made of dark metal, a blood-colored ruby at the hilt. The creature took Obi-Wan's hands gently, turned them palm up and pressed the sharp blade against one wrist while closing the hilt into his other hand. "Take your life, padawan," he said just as kindly as the real man had ever spoken. He even held Obi-Wan's shaking hand so he didn't drop the knife. "It's the only way to stop what's coming. Let him find you, grieve for you. Let it remind him of the compassion he's forgotten."

On the floor letters began to appear, painted in blood. _Anakin, I'm so sorry. It's better this way._

" _No_ ," Obi-Wan half-moaned, half attempted to yell. He tried so hard to throw the blade away, but the creature's grip was like iron. He wanted to push his way free, to lay down in the cool air somewhere so he wouldn't be sick from the stress crushing his body and thoughts.

The creature wearing his master's face looked at him with a somber promise in its gaze. "I will be with you until the very end, my padawan, my son." It would be so easy, the air seemed to whisper, touching his thoughts like the hands of a lover. He would be One with the Force, the galaxy would be served by his death.

The blade surged into his wrist by his own doing. Obi-Wan let out a pained groan as his skin was ripped and the tides of his life spilled forth with each rhythm of blood pressure. His hand were now stained red, cradled in the those of his master. When he looked up into that familiar face red eyes stared back hungrily.

With a yell Obi-Wan threw the dagger across the room where it clanged against a pillar, then dropped to the black carven floor below. He shook his head free of the visions and held up his wrists, thankful to see his skin whole. He had not chosen to take his own life. The shadow was standing above, dark fury pouring through the Force because of this. The malicious intent throbbed like a driven heart and, now physically free, Obi-Wan tried to get to his feet to escape.

But it was too late. One shadow became many and covered him in darkness, claws slashing at him, unseen mouths feasting on the Force inside him, licking the blood from each wound as he fell helpless with his arms thrown over his face and his back to the bitterly frigid floor. He had no idea what was real and what was terror induced by this lightless realm of evil, this Darkside Nexus. The last thing he thought before losing consciousness was that Anakin may yet grieve his passing.

oOo

It was like coming home, in a strange sort of way, like a cog turned in the machinery of his fate, pressing those hands ever closer to the midnight hour. Anakin stood before the temple, pale with fear at the feelings coursing through him. He drew in a shallow breath of the fetid, muggy air and tried to look away from the monstrous building before him.

At his feet and hers lay the corpses of almost a dozen jurgorans. Lyra came to his side and pressed her hand against his back. "The Darkside will do anything to draw you deeper in. It will tell you everything you've ever wanted to hear or feared to hear. Focus, Padawan."

He shook himself free of his dark reveries with a nod, then swiped the rainwater out of his eyes. "I think he's in there. I sense...something. Something suffering." He couldn't help his voice shaking on the last word. It gave him hope his master was alive, yet made him fearful of what he would find.

"We'll get him out of there," she replied certainly, and he wished he could feel the iron she must have in her soul to be so calm.

Sabers ignited, they entered the deepest black he had ever experienced. The carved walls were dark, but the aura of the place darker still. He lifted the blue light of his blade and peered into the hallway, looking for any sign that life had passed through. There was no dust and thus no footprints to guide them. Giving each other a reassuring glance, Anakin and Lyra moved on from the entrance.

They found where the hall became two, curved inward toward the same large room. She went right and he left. He listened hard in the dark for breathing, pacing, anything. All he heard was a stead drip from somewhere beyond him and the whisper of a breeze he could not feel on his face.

Slowly, he became cognizant of words trailing the wind to his ears.

 _ **Foretold... Foretold... Balance... Destiny... Prophecy... Peace, lie... Peace, lie... Peace is a lie...**_

He gripped his lightsaber harder, trying to focus on reality. _There is no emotion; there is peace,_ he repeated the Jedi litany to himself. The whisper on the air only mocked him with its own litany, _**Peace is a lie, there is only passion...**_

 _There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._ His heart raced as the Darkside swirled around his thoughts, touching his emotions, drawing them out of hiding. _**Through passion, I gain strength...**_

"There is no _passion_ ; there is _serenity_ ," he went on, his voice hardened and his heart shielding itself, even as laughter fill his ears. _**Through strength, I gain power...**_ The power to save the ones he loved. The power to stop the suffering in the galaxy. The power to keep himself from ever feeling fear again.

"There is no chaos; there is harmony." What did these words even mean to him? There was chaos all around him, always, beating on him like waves on a shore. _**Through power, I gain victory...**_

"There is no death; there is the Force." Obi-Wan had to be alive. He couldn't face another death. Why did they leave him? Why did they always leave him? _**Through victory my chains are broken, the Force shall free me...**_

"No!" he hissed, or maybe it was a shout. It felt like a scream. He stood a moment in the hallway, shaking in the dark, trying to refocus. He abandoned the Jedi litany and concentrated on his own will. _I will not give in to this. I am Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, and the darkness holds no sway over me._

The shadows whooped and crowed at him, reminded him, _The darkness is all you ever think about!_

A cry sounded from ahead, pulling him out of the shadows and back into reality. Seeing the green light of Lyra's ligthsaber, Anakin closed his down and ran ahead, into a large antechamber whose ceiling soared high above them. Inside, Lyra was kneeling at Obi-Wan's fallen form.

Anakin dropped to his knees, swallowing back his fear as he pulled his master's arms away from his face. His skin was cold and cut, his eyes barely fluttering open at being moved. "Obi-Wan?" he said raggedly, his heart racing as he shook his master by one shoulder. _Not this. Not this. Anything but this._

A voice, much too weak to belong to a vital Jedi Knight, said back ,"Anakin?" He lifted a hand, trying to touch his padawan reassuringly, but was too unsteady to find his arm. It fell back and Anakin felt chilled. He had only seen this level of physical weakness once in his life. On Tattooine.

"Anakin." The voice was Lyra's, drawing him away though he didn't want to look anywhere else but his master. He glanced at her, saw her eyes locked ahead and followed her gaze to where a shadowy figure stood, watching them.

All sense of fear dropped from Anakin at the sight of the creature. Pulling his lightsaber back at the ready, the padawan rose to his feet with a glare like the two suns of his home planet. When he flicked the switch on, the creature laughed.

He lunged and it disappeared. Whipping around, he saw Lyra standing with her blade drawn, eyes desperately searching for any sign of their foe. "What is it?" he asked.

To which she replied, "I don't know."

"Can we defeat it?"

Again, she said, "I don't know."

A black, smoking shadow flew past him and swirled around Lyra. Then another. Then another. Several more started gathering around him and he swung without hesitation, breaking the smoke apart, but hitting nothing solid. He saw Lyra struggle with the same incorporeal flight of monsters, saw her locked and ready with no one to take on.

Across the room the larger shadow with human form stood and Anakin could swear the very stars watched him from beneath that hood. He pointed his blade at the creature, then raised his head in obvious challenge. Instantly the form broke apart and few at him as many, like dozens of bats diving at prey.

Somewhere to his right Lyra was screaming. Anakin swept his lightsaber against the tide of shadows, but they kept reforming and returning to torment him. He felt one cut his cheek, another tear at his cloak and yet another knock his weapon to the floor. For a long few seconds all they had was the green of Lyra's blade to see by, then they were knocked into near total blackness save for the feeble light of a few phosphorescent plants growing out of cracks in the ground.

He could feel the Force being chipped away at, could feel the Darkside surrounding him like a blanket, removing all sensation of anything else, even his two Jedi companions. They whispered at him, taunted him with their evil prophecies and made him see things that could never be true.

 _Kill him_ , the shadow demanded, and Anakin could swear he felt hands resting on his shoulders and the breath of a demon at the back of his neck. _Kill your master, become the master. Kill him and gain the power you seek. Kill him if you love him. Remove him from the pain that is to come._

Anakin covered his ears as if it would block out the words, but it was no use, no use. Hopeless, sick from the words, he searched the dark and saw Lyra already on her knees as the shadows assaulted her. He needed help, needed someone to ground him in the truth because right now every word the blackness said to him seemed to ring out in perfect harmony with destiny. He could feel it, could sense fate as if it were a mere story to be told, a story in which the answer must see him become the most vile of all things and it broke his heart.

He could feel the shadow moving around him, pacing at his right to enter his field of vision with its taunting smile, and with every ounce of rage at what he was being put through, what he knew Obi-Wan must also have suffered, Anakin howled, " _ **I will not become that thing!**_ " He ignited his saber and drove it backwards into the shadow coming around.

The shadows disappeared and he collapsed to his knees, dropped his lightsaber and hoarsely panted for air from the emotional and physical expense of the fight. Lyra had her hand over her mouth and a river of tears flowing down her cheeks. Slowly she brought her gaze up into Anakin's wet blue eyes and the compassion in her expression finally gave him the grounding he needed.

Hooking his blade to his belt, Anakin dragged himself to his feet and moved back to his master's side. He briefly gave Lyra a touch, asked with his eyes if she were alright and when she nodded, crouched to gather Obi-Wan into his arms. His master's eyes fluttered open but there was no horror there as Anakin had half feared after being assailed with such terrible imagery of his own darkness. There was only peace there. It made the wetness in his eyes spill briefly past his lids. "You're gonna be alright, Master. I promise," he said, pulling the older man closer.

Obi-Wan gave him a soft smile and nodded at his padawan. "I know, Anakin," he breathed, barely above a whisper. "I know I'll be alright now." His weak grasp finally found purchase, clasping his apprentice on the shoulder with a faith-filled squeeze before he closed his eyes again.

Lyra smoothed Obi-Wan's hair back off his forehead gently. She remained close by as they walked back to the entrance. A peek outside at the violent lightening made her shake her head. "We can't go out there. Not now. We're going to have to wait for the storm to calm."

Stomach muscles clenched in anxiety, Anakin frowned. "Can he wait that long?"

She didn't look any happier than he felt. "It's either that or get fried. We'll wait here by the exit and keep him warm."

Gently lowering Obi-Wan, Anakin maneuvered so he could hold his wet, cold master against his chest to impart some warmth. He looked up at Lyra's gentle scrutiny, watched a drop of water fall from her hair as she trembled. Anakin nodded to his side. "Keep against me for warmth. Take his legs."

With a nod the female master sank down the wall beside him and pressed her legs beneath Obi-Wan's. She used her hands to rub the injured master's legs to cause friction that would warm him. Anakin tried to do the same for his arms. Obi-Wan was out cold, barely stirring at their touch. He had seen his master like this before, but never had he been so rattled by it. There had always been the assurance of survival and while Anakin did not doubt his master would pull through this time, the evil of this place weighed on him, made him consider the unthinkable.

He stared into a darkness punctuated only by the flash of angry weather from outside the cracked door. After about an hour he noticed Master Lyra had drifted off. Her body was tense against his. Even Obi-Wan muttered softly in his sleep. Determined he would not fall prey, Anakin murmured, "Don't worry, Master. I'll stand guard."

By the time the storm died Lyra was shaking him awake from dark nightmares that made him gasp when stirred. "I'll go get the ship. Keep an eye open." He nodded his agreement and she was gone.

When they were safely boarded Anakin stretched his master out on the single medical cot near the back of the ship while Lyra initiated liftoff. As he settled in at Obi-Wan's side to share the Force with him and bring him out of danger, Anakin only then let himself reflect on what they were leaving behind. He could hear his own words echoing in his thoughts and held them to his heart as a shield to protect him from the evil. _I will not become that thing._

But he had a feeling of purpose fulfilled and that whatever it was in the temple below was not dead, but joyous even, despite their escape.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, after the ship had breached the atmosphere, Lyra came back with a bundle of clothes and asked, "How is he?"

Anakin let the Force link drop, felt his master's face. "He's out of the woods now, but he's cold." Obi-Wan's skin was pale, much too pale for comfort, and it stuck him how close he had come to losing the only father he had ever known. He could feel his heart constrict at the realization.

"We have to get him out of these wet things." Lyra pulled open Obi-Wan's robe and slid it off his shoulders, then started taking off his belt. It was enough to bring Anakin out of his dark thoughts. For a long minute he just stared, both eyebrows raised, while she worked at his master's clothing without so much as a pause. When she finally noticed she was under scrutiny, she gave the padawan a half-smile and said, "Was there something?"

"Ah, are you gonna remove _all_ his clothing? Yourself?" he asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant voice that was actually far from it.

The master blushed at his question, but smirked as she retorted, "You don't think I'm a professional Jedi?"

" _Professional_ Jedi? Remind me to add that one to my resume." He watched as she pulled open his master's shirt and started pushing it off his naked shoulders. To be honest, he had never really considered the idea of compatible sexes undressing each other on the field. It had always been just the guys in his world. He wasn't sure how to react to this. "I just know Obi-Wan strives to live a virtuous life..."

"Well, I wouldn't want to compromise his virtue," Lyra laughed and threw a pair of Obi-Wan's clean leggings straight into his face as she slipped out the door.

Anakin sighed, mumbled, "I didn't mean _I_ wanted to do it," and then did it anyway. There were livid lacerations all along Obi-Wan's prone form. Anakin sported a few himself from the shadow attack, but not nearly so many or as deep.

Outside the room Lyra banged on the wall. "Throw his wet stuff out here so I can put it in the laundry cycle. And don't hold out on the underwear. I need something to think about on the way back to Coruscant."

"Yeah, yeah." Anakin rolled his eyes and bundled up the wet, swampy robes and tossed them out for the other master to clean. When she came back he was already cleaning his master's wounds. She grabbed a disinfectant spray and some towelettes to help him out. Steeling himself, Anakin decided to ask her a question that had flitted back and forth in his thoughts since the attack. "Did that thing make you see visions?"

Her hand paused in its work, telling him that she had indeed been victim to the same ploy. "It did," she answered after a minute, then returned to her tender ministrations. Lyra looked at him meaningfully as she worked. "But you have to consider the source. Sith manipulate. It's how they get what they want and they are usually selected by their masters for displaying a certain degree of skill in this behavior."

"How do you know so much about them?"

"One of my predecessors was one."

Anakin knit his brow and looked at her sharply, not sure he heard right. "Excuse me?"

Lyra started rubbing a healing agent over a slash down Obi-Wan's side. The touch made his master groan in his sleep. "The Jedi Council knows about it. It was long before I can even remember. Eons ago. I only remember the memories of others who had remembered her life. The only threat I pose to the Jedi is to Obi-Wan's privacy," she assured him with an aura tinged with both anxiety at his reaction and a playfulness that begged him not to judge her harshly.

"I'm sorry, it just startled me," he confessed, still trying to sort it out in his mind. It seemed strange that the Jedi would accept her, but there had been other fallen Force wielders in history that had been redeemed, and she wasn't even responsible for what she held in her memories. Besides, Obi-Wan trusted her. "So what did you see?" he asked, then immediately regretted it. It was a very personal question, one he wasn't sure he could even answer if she asked him.

Her gaze seemed distant as she relived the attack in her mind. "Things about that predecessor, about myself in any number of situations that may or may never come to pass." Pulling herself out of her reverie, she gave him a very bold stare and repeated, "Consider the source. When reading time we can access all manner of possibilities, all of them true in their own context. But they don't have to apply to our own context."

It was his turn to smirk. "Multiverse theory?"

"If it helps you to think of it that way."

She turned her gaze back to Obi-Wan with a gentility that made him regret teasing her earlier. Watching her tend his master, Anakin decided he hadn't been the only one scared nearly out of his wits back at that temple of evil. He thought about what she said about context and manipulation, tried to commit it to heart with each breath he took and again affirmed inside himself, _I will not become that thing I saw_.

 _I will_ _ **not**_ _._

oOo

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	6. Order 66

Sins of the Sons  
by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

oOo

 _From the personal journal of Master Lyra Xedryn. During 66._

 _I sit drifting in space, having left Serenno when I was attacked by my accompanying clone detachment. I only narrowly escaped a sudden volley of blaster fire that was purposefully aimed at me. There is a great disturbance in the Force. Something grave has happened. Something...something out of nightmares._

oOo

He was soaking wet, and oh, how he hated being soaking wet. Falling into the sinkhole hadn't been the height of his day, nor that of his mount, Boga, he felt certain. The Nos monsters and seeker droids after could have been reasonably fun, perhaps, on another mission. Now recovered out of that pit of absolute _glorious_ hydration, Obi-Wan stood inside a cave on the edges of Pau City on Utapau, back in the rocks, shivering as a soft wind teased his wet clothes. With a sigh he squeezed out his tunic again, even as he stretched out his senses to measure the opposition.

The clones were on alert, but there was no battle going on. He was going to have to handle this with a great deal of stealth and concentration. At least he had his lightsaber, but if he could manage to get by unnoticed, so much the better. The longer he could play dead, the better off he would be, until he could figure out just what in blazes was going on. It was terrible, he could sense that much, but just what would he face leaving this planet?

There was a small patrol that passed every ten minutes, which was now heading in his direction to check the perimeter. Obi-Wan ducked back among the rocks and waited as they passed. "Did you find Kenobi?" one asked.

The other replied, "No one could have survived that fall."

"Start loading your men on the ship."

"Yes, sir."

His senses of them were incredibly normal. Oh, they were human enough, but the sudden order to kill someone who had been friendly, a comrade in arms, had done little to stir their excitement. It was just another order among the many. He couldn't even blame them. It was simply their nature.

The troopers disappeared out of sight and Obi-Wan made his move. Keeping his Force senses at highest alert, he managed to avoid detection until he reached the secret landing platform where his quarry lay. Crouched low within the shadows, Obi-Wan watched the starfighter that had belonged to the late and lamentable General Grievous like a cat ready to pounce. He kept his senses attuned to the clones in the immediate area and when the way was clear, sprang into action.

Touching the minds of the clones, suggesting ever so politely they ignore the possibility that a Jedi Master could be sneaking off with a starfighter, he broke in, worked the console as fast as human fingers would allow and hid himself from the viewports during liftoff. The surprise he sensed below wasn't satisfying, exactly, but served as decent evidence that he had enough time to break free of the system before they could track him.

When he had made good his escape he opened up a secret communications channel for the use of the Jedi and repeated several times, "Emergency Code Nine Thirteen. Are there any Jedi receiving this transmission?"

It seemed forever, but was perhaps an hour when his distress calls finally reached someone. That someone was not a Jedi, to Obi-Wan's surprise, but the Senator of Alderaan, Bail Organa. The senator had always been solicitous of Jedi concerns, a seemingly honest politician who genuinely cared for his constituents. The signal was fuzzy at first, but a fingertip's dance at the keyboard brought a hologram of the senator into focus. "Master Kenobi?"

"Senator? My clone troops turned on me. I'm in deep space out in the Utapau system, but without any clear idea of what's going on, I had no idea where to turn. Do you know what's going on?"

The hologram looked grave as he replied, "There's been a serious attack on the Jedi Order, Master Kenobi. I'm having my helmsman transfer our coordinates to you now. Coruscant is a trap, the Jedi Temple attacked. We just managed to rescue Master Yoda, who gave me this channel to monitor for Jedi survivors. His standing orders for any Jedi we contact are to rendezvous with my ship as soon as possible."

Obi-Wan watched the display, keyed in the coordinates as he received them. "Locking on to your position. I'm on my way. I'll be arriving in a transport registered to General Grievous, so don't shoot when you scan the ship registry. How many other Jedi have contacted you?" Faces started passing through his thoughts, anxiety about fates unknown accompanying each.

Organa shook his head sadly. "None yet. But we've only just started monitoring communications. Hopefully, with time..." He trailed off.

"Indeed, Senator. Thank you. Kenobi out." His commandeered ship began the calculations to hyperspace and he leaned back, trying to digest what he had just been told. The Jedi Temple attacked? Who in their right mind would make such a move? And yet the answer was blatantly obvious, for no one else in the galaxy had enough power to order such an astonishing action. Palpatine. The Jedi Council had begun to suspect him of corruption despite his seemingly pro-Jedi views and friendship with Anakin, but to order an extinction without so much as a seizure and trail? There were emergency executive powers and then there was this―insanity.

Yet worse had been done in the name of protection against terrorism. In a system as bloated and bureaucratic as the Republic laws could slip by with no one, not even the Senate itself, cognizant of the true meaning of what they were signing away. There were many who did not even read the propositions they had put before them, content to follow the money this way or that, leaving a public with only the state's fear of revolt to keep them from going too far. If your proposition was too alarming or surpassed common decency by a large margin, you could be held accountable, legally or otherwise, for your actions. But if you pushed only so far, if you worded it just deceptively enough, you could pass the most frightening things into law with minimal opposition.

And over time the perception of what surpassed common decency could change as the public became desensitized to actions by the government that would have stunned their grandfathers. Progress is not always the father of change in society. Sometimes that title belongs to such repulsive concepts as Fear or Greed.

Obi-Wan stroked his beard thoughtfully as the ship made the jump, then gave it up under his exhaustion and closed his eyes. Political musings wouldn't change anything. Palpatine would have made certain he could not be held culpable for the events transpiring now. That was what made him dangerous. He knew the heart of the law and how to best poison those whom the law was designed to protect.

As for Anakin, his former master's only hope was that somehow his friendship with Palpatine had offered some sort of protection from the coup. Perhaps, given time, his former padawan could talk some sense into Palpatine concerning Jedi survivors. Obi-Wan wouldn't hold his breath for that, but it was a possibility.

And yet something else ate at Kenobi, something he had not thought about in years. Dromund Kaas. When his apprentice was knighted and grew his hair out, it had not even occurred to Obi-Wan to worry. The visions that had visited him in that dark temple were long forgotten, the details sketchy at best. And then Asajj Ventress had given Anakin his scar. That was the one detail that brought the events of Dromund Kaas vividly back into the forefront of his mind.

No. That thread of the future was impossible. Anakin had not turned, had in fact grown closer to Obi-Wan than he had ever been. That night had changed their relationship. He had not let that monster make him fear his padawan, had not let the possibility of evil madk him close himself off, preparing for the worst. When Anakin had pulled him off that cold, deathly floor, Obi-Wan had simply rested in serenity and let himself bask in the truth that there _was_ true affection between them. What would come would come, but for the time being he had someone that loved him as a son to a father, a brother to a brother, and that was the reality that deserved his action, not some distant 'what if' that a being of evil prophesied.

That night he had started to give himself to Anakin in a way he never had, and begun to let himself trust his apprentice's heart was in his actions. He had become a slave to the Council's caution no more and Anakin had responded to that. When the scar from the visions appeared and with it came no galaxy shattering change, Obi-Wan had taken it as a sign that that evil future was no more.

He had banished it from his mind. Which made its return all the more distressing. He wanted to banish it again, but something in the back of his mind kept returning to it.

Hours passed before the insistent beep from the console woke him up from the nap he had not even intended on taking. He had dropped out of hyperspace and was within visual range of Organa's starcruiser. Opening a channel, he said, "Hello, yes. Sorry. Initiating docking procedures."

With an audible boom the ships connected. When he disembarked both Organa and Yoda were there to greet him. Obi-Wan bowed his head in greeting, then looked to Yoda. "Master, what is happening?"

Yoda was old, there was no denying that. Almost as old as the current Republic itself. If it were possible it seemed as if he had aged in just the short time since Obi-Wan had left Coruscant on orders to the Utapau system. "Come. Discuss what we know, we will." Organa swept his hand to indicate the direction they should walk, but Yoda remained paused a moment more, eyeing the subordinate master. "Good to see you, it is. Dark times are ahead, I fear. Dark times."

They retreated to a nearby conference room where they seated themselves around an octagonal table. There were no other Jedi present, Obi-Wan noted with some alarm. "How widespread is this?" he asked, afraid to know the answer.

Organa and Yoda exchanged glances. The elderly Jedi nodded his host to speak. "All across the board, I'm afraid, Master Kenobi. We have no true way of knowing at this time who is dead and who is alive, but my intel contacts have intercepted a few reports of successful hits on various planets. By that I mean Clones turning against their Jedi Commanders. Couple that with what's happened at the Temple and we're left with a very bad picture."

Obi-Wan felt his heart sink. He let out a breath he hadn't even been aware of holding, rubbed at his temples and said, "What happened at the Temple, exactly?"

"The smoke started as daylight turned to dusk," Organa replied, looking as shell-shocked as Obi-Wan felt. The senator shook his head, his motion echoing what his mind must be repeating, _No, no, this isn't real._ "I went out there in my speeder and saw Clone Troopers everywhere. Among...the bodies."

At that Obi-Wan closed his eyes, wishing that when he opened them the nightmare would be over. "Where any Jedi taken captive?" he dared ask.

The Senator shrugged his shoulders. A sliver of hope. A mere sliver. "Not that I'm aware, but I by no means witnessed the entire event. There hasn't even been word of what precipitated the attack. All we know for certain is that the Clone Troopers have killed a substantial amount of Jedi and thus far have not been stopped by any body of government, which suggests the order probably originated from the highest offices. Perhaps even the Chancellor himself."

"Another problem, we have," Yoda interjected, knowing speculation would answer no questions, "is the coded retreat message. States the war is over, it does, and calls the Jedi back."

Obi-Wan widened his eyes at that. "Then we have to stop it!"

The elderly Jedi shook his head sadly. "Preserve Jedi we _know_ are alive, we _must_. Too dangerous it is go to back."

When Obi-Wan poised to argue his point, Organa held up a forestalling hand. "Master Kenobi, I have highly skilled slicers attempting to shut the signal off remotely. Any knowledge you have about the Jedi computer infrastructure would be most helpful in this task. We're sending out a counter signal that we hope will intercept the one from the Temple."

Obi-Wan sat back, at odds with the decision, but also aware of why Yoda had made it. Depending on the scale of what was happening back at Coruscant, it would be vital for as many Jedi as possible to remain alive and hidden. Whatever Palpatine's motives, there was still a Sith somewhere in the mix to worry about, and getting killed would give the Sith that much more power.

"Of course, Senator," he replied, giving Yoda a respectful nod of assent. He didn't know as much as he wished about the computer infrastructure. If only Anakin were here...

An aide came into the room and bowed at Senator Organa. "Senator, we're receiving a transmission from a Jedi who calls herself Lyra Xedryn. She says she wants to hear the voice of another Jedi before she agrees to meet us."

Closing his eyes in relief, Obi-Wan let the ghost of a smile touch his lips briefly. When he opened them he noticed Yoda watching him while Organa was ordering the communication to be patched through to the console before him. He pressed a button and stated, "Master Xedryn, this is Senator Bail Organa. I have with me Masters Yoda and Kenobi."

"Obi-Wan?" her voice sounded over the speaker. She remembered herself pretty quick and added, "Master Yoda?"

"I'm here, Lyra," Obi-Wan assured her with a reflexive nod she would never actually see. "I'm with Master Yoda now. You have my word we can trust Senator Organa and any coordinates he's offered."

She was breathless and confused, but that she spoke at all filled him with a relief that lessened the tension he could feel his body winding into. "I'm leaving Serenno now. I've received word from the Temple to return, that the war is over, but also a communique saying it's a lie and to avoid Coruscant at all costs. My Clones fired on me. What in the name of the Republic is going on?"

"Unfortunately, I don't think it's happening in the name of the Republic," Obi-Wan mused darkly, then sighed. "There's been a large scale attack on the Jedi. Coruscant is a no man's land for us right now."

"Elaborate more, I will," Yoda said, stepping into his role as grandmaster. "Rendezvous at the coordinates Senator Organa has provided, my orders are." His face softened, looked mournful as his ears drooped a fraction of an inch. "Well, you did, to request we speak. Very few friends, the Jedi may find they have, and trust a rare thing indeed."

She agreed to meet them, as she must, and Senator Organa showed Obi-Wan to a tech that he could discuss the Jedi computer system with, while Yoda remained available for any transmissions from other Jedi.

During the time Obi-Wan was relaying his knowledge there were none.

oOo

While Senator Organa had taken the direct route in investigating the happenings at the Jedi Temple, another senator decided stealth would be the means by which the Temple should be breached, much to the distress of an anxiety ridden protocol droid. Padme Amidala had had enough of watching the Temple burn from her apartment. Donning a pair of leggings and light tunic under a dark cloak, she secreted out of her apartment without Captain Typho's knowledge.

It was a risk, but she had to know, had to see for herself. And so she took a speeder to one of the lower levels where the oldest parts of the Temple were and there was considerably less traffic. She had picked her husband up down here several times over the course of their secret marriage and knew that very few people even knew there were utility entrances below, and whose entrance codes were known only to Jedi. He had taught her the codes when the war started to pick up momentum, fearing that someday she might need protection. Padme was banking on the Clones not being privy to such information, or at least less concerned about infiltration from below.

There were no guards set at the door she meant to use. She parked in the shadow of the great building and rushed through the entrance without incident, almost coming face to face with a hallway patrol. Lucky for her she had heard their approach and had time to duck beside a tool cabinet that would conceal her until they passed. Waiting, she pushed down her hood, reasoning that if she were seen her best bet would be to be recognizable as a herself and not a Jedi.

The patrolling Clones passed into another hallway and she darted the other way, searching for a way up. She had only the vaguest notion of how the Temple was laid out, having searched and studied it only before she left. To be fair, she really didn't know what she was looking for, either. She knew only that this meant disaster and that Anakin had not responded to her communications.

That was not to say Padme was without purpose. Aside from seeing what was going on currently, she knew the best way to get an accurate picture of events as they had unfolded was to gain access to the security feeds. She had no idea how strongly protected such files would be, but hoped that she would prevail somehow. Hardly anyone but Jedi would attempt to access such data from actual Temple terminals. Protection against remote hacking would be strong, but physical access?

Around a few corners she found a staircase that spiraled up. Her heart pounding, she mounted the stairs and kept her ears vigilant for any sound. After a few flights a voice made a chill pass through her body and she left the stairs, ducking into a random room she prayed was empty. It looked like a sparring room. Near the side was an entrance into a small shower room where she remained until she managed to stop shaking.

A few more flights up she ran into the first body. It was a young padawan, not even sixteen, her legs at an odd angle and a blaster burn across her chest. Padme covered her mouth to suppress a moan of horror. The girl's green eyes were open and pleading, and all Padme could think was why? Why did this have to happen?

Above she passed a few more Clone patrols and several bodies before finding what the schematics she had downloaded labeled as the main computer hub. Peering to each side, Padme plugged in a data chip and started working the terminal. There was no way she could view the files now, there was no time, but with luck she could review them safely in her own home.

She found the files and they were write-protected, but downloadable. Heaving a sigh of relief, she transferred the past forty hours worth of video feeds to her data chip, removed it and had to hide beneath a nearby table as a Clone peered into the room. Thinking about that trip back downstairs made Padme worry.

When the Clone was gone she pocketed the data chip, left the hub and determined if she were stopped she would tell them she was looking for Anakin and play the hormonal pregnancy card for all she was worth. It was on the last level, with the door in sight, that she was spotted and almost shot. Two blaster rifles were leveled at her and only her cry of, "A senator! I'm a senator!" made them pause. Her raised hands were trembling violently.

The two Clones approached her, looking stern and unbending. "Who are you and what are you doing?" one Clone demanded. His rank markings showed him to be a captain. "By order of Chancellor Palpatine and Master Skywalker, the Jedi Temple is off limits to everyone." He was alive? He was _alive_!

"I am Senator Padme Amidala of Naboo," she replied, forcing herself to assume a commanding presence. She lowered her arms slowly, schooled her features and her voice. Thinking fast, she used the information his pronouncement offered her. "I am the wife of Master Skywalker and speak with his authority. I also carry his child." It was a gamble. They could simple denounce her as a liar, but if there was any sanity in the Senate still they would not shoot her without due cause. She rubbed her stomach visibly, softened her expression. "Please, I just want to know if he's alright.

The captain and his subordinate glanced at one another. "Wife, huh? Last I heard Jedi don't go in for that sort of thing. And he's not here to confirm."

She never thought she would be so grateful for bureaucracy. "Check the Naboo Census Registry. Our marriage is on file. Or contact his comm unit. Or the Chancellor himself."

Removing a data reader from his belt, the captain began accessing the Republic database and when his eyes found the truth, he said, "I'll be damned." He peered up from the reader, took a measure of her with his gaze, then nodded. "I guess we can overlook it this once. But next time you get concerned, you make sure you go through proper channels. And maybe try using _public_ entrances next time." There was a deadly promise there and a deep suspicion.

Padme nodded, trying not to look overly relieved. "I apologize, Captain. I was afraid."

"Yes, well, your husband's still loyal to the Republic. So as long as you are as well you have nothing to worry about. Let's make sure you get safely to your transport." He motioned her to take the lead and she did, walking steadily and with all the grace of her station. Once she pulled away, she let tears she hadn't even been aware were waiting fall. She mourned that untold numbers of Jedi were probably dead, but that Anakin was still alive filled her with a gratitude she couldn't begin to express.

Back at her apartment, Padme splashed her face with cold water and sank onto one of the couches while Threepio rebuked her for worrying him half to death. She didn't care. She would endure his prattle for hours more and consider it worth the knowledge she had gained. Closing her eyes, she let his voice lull her into a sleep punctuated by hazy nightmares.

What she saw when she awakened and reviewed the security recordings made her wonder if she would ever sleep soundly again.

oOo

When she had boarded the starcruiser her arms had flown around him unabashedly. For a full two minutes Lyra had allowed herself to hold Obi-Wan to her and he had made no move to stop her. Only seeing Senator Organa move politely from the room brought her back to her senses. When she stepped back Obi-Wan and the Senator had led her to a conference room where they had briefed her on the situation with Master Yoda.

Hearing it had been hard. She thought of friends that had been at the Temple when she left, of others who may not have escaped their Clones firing on them. By the time the end of the story rolled around she was dumbfounded, staring at the wall as if it would offer her existential truth. The wall, of course, had nothing to offer. Walls seldom did.

And now Lyra remained seated there at the table with no real will to get up and shower or change or eat. She was content to listen to Obi-Wan and Yoda talk quietly about plans to seek out other Jedi that might have survived the attack. Organa went above and beyond the call of duty in his generosity to their cause. Listening to him speak had instilled in her a newfound respect for the man she had only heard stories about.

After a time the three men had come to a consensus of which she was not aware, having been lost to her thoughts. Turning back at the sound of her name, she saw Yoda watching her gravely. He was near enough to reach out and put his small hand on her arm. "With us, the Force is."

A blush rose to her cheeks at her own lapse. "I apologize, Master. I was lost."

"But found again, you are. Stay that way for long while yet, you must." He patted her arm and looked to Senator Organa. "Then agreed, it is."

Organa nodded briskly. "Yes. I will be expected to return to the Senate. To do otherwise would raise suspicions. Therefore, I will relinquish command of this starcruiser to you and offer my home world as a safe haven to any Jedi we save, until we can find hidden places for them. I can assure you that the true sons and daughters of Alderaan will never turn against the Jedi."

The elderly Jedi nodded his gratitude and looked at the masters with him. "Go to Alderaan, you will, and await my orders. Until answers we have, nothing can we do except remain invisible to the sight of Palpatine."

"We have a private retreat in the mountains, my wife and I," Organa offered kindly. "Most of the servants and public aren't aware of it. We go there when we need rest. Those servants that are there would die before disobeying their queen. The will not betray you, on my word. Breha has agreed to meet us there, where I will pick up another ship to return to Coruscant. I will relay any information I gain as quickly as humanly possible."

Lyra didn't like the idea of remaining inactive. It would give them time to ruminate over these events and that was the last thing she wanted, but it was the best they could do with what they knew. To strike out blindly would increase their chances of being detected and who knew what would happen if they were apprehended? Arrest? More likely death would result.

The sigh Obi-Wan gave suggested he felt the same, but he too recognized there were no other options. "Thank you, Senator. You've been unimaginably gracious to us. We can never repay that."

Senator Organa looked mildly taken aback, then offered a smile. "On the contrary, it is I who repay the debt we all have to the Jedi." He looked between the three masters. "We're headed towards Alderaan now. It shouldn't be long. Until then, my ship is at your disposal, of course. If you're hungry or tired or injured, Master Xedryn, please take advantage of my hospitality."

"Thank you," she replied, giving him a look of real appreciation to make up for her previous suspicion, called for or not.

He left them with Master Yoda in tow and Obi-Wan turned to her, putting a hand on hers. "Are you alright?"

The concern in his blue eyes filled her again with thankfulness that he was alive to look at her thus. She let her hand flip, ran her fingertips along his palm. "I'm fine. It was just such a shock. I can't even think what any survivors out there must be going through. And Anakin...oh, Obi-Wan, I'm so sorry we don't know yet. But he's the Chosen One. He _must_ be alive."

Obi-Wan leaned tiredly back in his chair and nodded. It made her grateful she had never taken a padawan, selfish as that was. In her way she worried for Anakin more than just a friend of his master might, but deep down she knew Obi-Wan must be caught between hope and mourning. He grunted. "I never even considered, but you're right. If he is the One, then there's good reason to assume he made it. I keep trying to meditate during the downtime, but I just can't seem to focus and Yoda keeps telling me to 'do or do not'." He smiled fondly at the old master's words. "I keep waiting for that stick to rap me on the arm like when I was youngling."

Lyra smirked. "I could do the honors, if you're really set on the idea."

" _No_ , thank you." He let his eyes wander her form. "Are you injured? We didn't even ask. You're not the only one who's lost in a terrible fog."

She spread her arms in a show of health. "No injuries, except to my pride. My Clones fired on me. I dodged, but I fell flat on my face afterwards and had to roll away before another volley hit." Her tunic was filthy enough to prove it, too. He didn't appear to have done much better. "Looks like you picked up some dirt yourself."

He rolled his eyes, pulling back his sleeve to look at a particularly offensive dirt smear. "They shot me off into a sinkhole. It was a very wet experience." There was a momentary pause as he thought back, then, "They didn't even say anything. Or feel anything except the excitement of targeting a threat. Not ten seconds before, Cody handed me my lightsaber. I had dropped it off one of the platforms while fighting. Oh, I killed Grievous, by the way."

"Score one for the Jedi," Lyra replied, trying not to sound hollow about it.

Obi-Wan rubbed his face and tried to stifle a yawn. "I think I slept last month. I think. Maybe next month I'll get to do it again."

"We'll have more than enough time to sleep on Alderaan, you know." She kicked his chair absently, jarring it and winning a tired groan. "We should probably spend most of it actively resting ourselves."

" _Actively_ resting ourselves? Sounds like work."

"It'll be a hard road."

"The hardest."

They smiled at one another and Lyra held onto the good feeling for as long as she could, knowing they were going to need such moments to keep themselves ahead of the darkness. Humor was one of the great defense mechanisms. It allowed for a break in the horrors now surrounding them.

oOo

Again, thanks for the interest! :-) Warning, things are going to get darker from here on out.


	7. Soul Lost

Sins of the Sons  
by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

oOo

By the time they reached Alderaan Master Lyra had drifted off in her chair, only to awaken at Obi-Wan shaking her shoulder gently. Yoda and Senator Organa were already entering the room when she sat up, bringing her senses back to full alertness. "We're putting down at the retreat now. You'll have clean clothes, good food, rest and safety here in my home."

Obi-Wan bowed his head once. "Again, I cannot thank you enough."

The Senator motioned them to follow and smiled. "Don't mention it."

Alderaan was a beautiful world, even when twilight turned the skies gray. The mountain air was clean and refreshing, the vista achingly magnificent. On the landing stood the Queen of Alderaan, flanked by several servants. She was graceful and elegant, but had kind eyes. Her husband gave her a chaste kiss when they reached her, then turned to the Jedi. "My wife, Queen Breha of the Royal House of Alderaan. She will take good care of you both while you recover."

Both Obi-Wan and Lyra bowed to the queen, murmuring, "Your Majesty." Then Obi-Wan took the lead. "I am Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and this is Master Lyra Xedryn. We are both in your debt, my lady."

Breha offered then a genteel smile. "Masters, it is my privilege to aid the Jedi in this trying time. I only wish the hour of our meeting was not darkened by what has transpired. You have my assurance that I and my husband will be working tirelessly to aid the Jedi in whatever manner we can." She motioned one of the servants forward; a tall woman with dark hair and a pale yellow dress. Breha continued, "Rooms have been prepared for your use. You will find some basic clothing until your sizes can be taken. Your Jedi attire will be mended and laundered, but I recommend you both dress as civilians."

"Of course, my lady." Obi-Wan readily agreed.

The Senator picked up where she left off. "To any that ask, you are diplomatic envoys. We can provide you with identification should the need arise."

Breha nodded. "If you're hungry or have any need, all you need do is ask." When the Jedi acknowledged this, she gave her husband an arch look. "And will you be staying for the night, my husband?"

Organa kissed his wife's hand and sighed softly. "I wish I could. But I need to return to divert attention away from us. Is my ship ready?" The one carrying Master Yoda had already taken off with the orders to remain in deep space for the time being.

"Yes, my love." She was awarded another kiss by her husband, then turned back to her guests. "My handmaiden, Suila, will guide you."

They left the Senator and his wife to their goodbyes.

They were taken through stately halls with breathtaking views of the outside world and pleasing aesthetics to a pair of quarters side by side. Within was every comfort they could ask for. Everything about Alderaan, including nature itself, seemed designed to put the viewer at their utmost ease, not unlike the Jedi Temple in that regard. Lyra closed the door behind her and wandered in slowly, taking in the sights of the sitting room. This would be her home for an untold amount of time.

Her fingertips brushed along a sumptuous couch, but a door to her left beckoned her attention. She entered a bedroom colored in cream and light purple hues, with another door leading to her ultimate goal—the refresher. Within Lyra stripped, knowing nothing on this planet would be as relaxing as a shower.

The water rushed across her form and the dirt of her struggles swirled around the drain. For the longest time she simply stood, enjoying the soft touch, enjoying the scent with new appreciation that she was alive to smell something as simple as water. Raising her hands, she cupped them and washed clean a face that still bore the salt of her tears. She would have it wash away her memories of the past week as well, if it could. But the time for mourning the dead would come later. Now was a time to ready for what was to come.

A simple dress in a blue the color of a certain pair of stormy eyes had been lain out on the bed, which she donned after her shower. Dressed, she sank down on the bed and watched a small bird on the balcony adjoining her room. She cleared her thoughts and let the animal be her focus as she began to practice mindfulness to ground her.

An indeterminate time passed. And then her peace was shattered. Obi-Wan was in pain.

Flying off her bed, Lyra ran from the room to where his was and entered without knocking. He was there in the sitting room, his burgundy finery making her almost pass him by. He stood between a set of couches, his eyes locked on a screen fixed on the wall where the HoloNet was playing the news.

On the screen stood a very strange figure indeed, draped in dark robes of the finest make and hooded so as to conceal the face from the casual observer. What could be seen was aberrant, unnerving, yet familiar. If there was any doubt at all the voice betrayed him. Palpatine. And at his side a stone-faced Anakin Skywalker, with crossed arms and an alien darkness in his stance.

There was a subtitle below that read, **Jedi Attempt To Destroy The Republic**. Above that unholy pronouncement Chancellor Palpatine was denouncing the guardians of peace in the galaxy. And so here it was, the story they had all been awaiting with baited breath. Mace Windu was killed in an assassination attempt that left Chancellor Palpatine disfigured. The Clone Army had attempted to seize the Jedi Temple, only to be attacked and made to retaliate with deadly force. Surviving Jedi were urged to turn themselves in for due process.

Anakin Skywalker, the only Jedi yet to remain loyal to the Republic. Anakin Skywalker, the only other person to see the assassination attempt and live to speak of it. Anakin Skywalker, who had led the march on the Temple and who, regrettably of course, had been forced to strike down of his own kind.

Anakin Skywalker who wore robes of black and disavowed the Jedi, saying in no uncertain terms, "I've seen evidence of their treachery for some time. The Jedi Council even went so far as to ask me to spy on the Chancellor for them and held me back when I refused to be so dishonest. To what depths would they have fallen next, had they succeeded in murdering the Chancellor? I grieve the loss of my friends, my master, but I am grateful we'll never know." He called them traitors to democracy even as he stood at the right hand of a man now inciting the Senate to disband the Republic and reform under a more powerful, less corrupt Galactic Empire ruled by a single man. The Senate roared, but not with indignity. They roared with applause as they signed away their freedom.

Suddenly aware he was not alone, Obi-Wan turned a shell-shocked gaze on Lyra. His eyes were wide, lost like that boy who had once had his master ripped from him, and begging her to tell him this was not real. Lyra reached out a shaking hand and turned the Holo feed off, then wrapped her arms about his waist, drawing him close. His head fell on her shoulder, but he didn't make a sound.

She found her own emotions blunted in shock at what she had just seen. It was as if she had awakened in some other universe where madness ruled. Yet she knew that even in this universe that she had known so well that where Sith walked madness was destined to follow. A cold certainty settled in her gut. Palpatine was the missing Sith. If not, then he was being controlled tightly by a master of unparalleled powers of manipulation. But Palpatine was no puppet. No, it made utterly perfect sense that he had been the Sith Lord all along.

And now Anakin was fully in his nets.

She wanted to find some reason he was on that stage and knew Obi-Wan was probably grasping for the same. It would be so easy to tell themselves he was playing a dangerous game of double cross with Palpatine and would someday come to them, reassuring them it was all an act. It would be easy, but for what she had seen in those crystal blue eyes of his. A man didn't look like that unless he had sold his soul.

She could feel Obi-Wan's hand running along the small of her back softly. Grief moved through him, struggling against traces of a lifetime of training that were hard-pressed to protect him now. His breathing was uneven, shaking and labored. And when he finally spoke, his voice made her feel the weight of her sorrow unchecked.

"I failed him."

Lyra tightened her hold around his waist, covered her eyes in his shoulder and whispered, "You did your best."

"How could he say those things? How could he be so blind to what the Jedi stand for? I failed to teach him that. I didn't give him the patience he needed. I was too afraid of him, too afraid of his power, of my own inability. And now..." He trailed off, trying to get a handle on the torrent of emotions swirling within. She could sense him warring with his human nature to gain serenity, but his aura was still charged with barely concealed pain."Tell me I'm asleep. Tell me and I'll believe you."

"You're asleep," she whispered, easing his head off her shoulder and giving his forehead a soft kiss. She touched hers to his. "We both are. And when we wake..."

"The real world will still be there, staring at us from the abyss." Obi-Wan had her fingers in his hands, was studying them as he held his forehead to hers. When he looked up his gaze was pleading, hungry for comfort. His soft voice struck her like lightning. "Stay with me tonight? I don't think I can bear to sit alone, thinking about this." Her own breathing grew labored then, but she nodded, knowing there was no other choice for her to make.

For a while they sat together, side by side, wordless as she leaned into his side. His arm was draped around her and his fingers played gently with the sleeve of her dress. He had his head laid back against the soft cushion of the couch and she could sense him initiating a light meditation. Lyra closed her eyes, but could not meditate herself. She instead let herself enjoy his warmth, his scent and the feel of his breathing.

After an hour he woke up from a sleep he had nod intended to fall into and suggested they go to bed. It was nothing. They had shared close sleeping before on missions. They could do the same now, she felt certain.

He surprised her when she stood with the help of his hand.

"Thank you," he breathed in gratitude of her comfort. He then touched her face, a simple gesture he had done before. It had always been soft and humorous, or in sweet thankfulness, but always chaste. Now she felt a charge erupt between them, triggered by raw emotions and mutual need. Obi-Wan tentatively smoothed his hand back into her hair, and started to move forward to test his willingness to give in, finally, to an unspoken part of their relationship. Lyra backed away slightly, halting his approach. But her heart was pounding and she knew her eyes held the truth of what she was feeling. Taking his hand, she led him and at the foot of the bed he stopped her, his eyes exploring hers with a question.

She smiled with all the warmth she had ever felt for him, brushed his cheek again, then laid down, facing inward. Walking around the bed, his eyes tracked her as he mirrored her position. He lay on his side and trailed his gaze from her head to toe, breathing deeply the scent of her as he waited for her permission. He would give himself to this moment, give himself to anything that hid him from the pain.

Every fiber of her being was alive right now. Her hand fell on his warm side and his lashes fluttered so beautifully that she ached to let him have what he was asking. She had belonged to him for years, a wordless understanding between them. She would give him anything he wished, anything at all. But not tonight. Tonight he needed to stay grounded. They both needed it.

"Close your eyes, Obi-Wan," she whispered and with a gentle aura he complied, wrapping himself into her embrace.

That night Lyra watched over him, guarding him against the nightmares that were sure to begin their feeding frenzy.

oOo

Senator Organa sat alone at his desk in his apartment on Coruscant. Night was a shroud that sank upon the deathly pale shoulders of another bleak day, blanketing the view with a backdrop of stars that promised no comfort. He sat there with his fingers pinched along the bridge of his nose as if it would hold back his headache. But it was too late. The thunderstorm in his head had already begun and would remain.

There had never been a time in his career when he thought it would be easier to simply give in to the mob, but the thought had crept upon him as a thief in shadow, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He had intel working around the clock to gain access to secret files that would give them something to work with in this war, for war it was, but so far the security around the so-called Emperor's files was top-notch.

Movement at the left side of his peripheral view made him tense. Had they come to arrest him? Assassinate him? He carried these worries as easily as he carried a blaster hidden in his clothes. Unfortunately, his cloak was on the couch across the room. He could dive for it, but they could get him before he managed a shot.

He stood slowly, trying to appear as if he were merely looking for a place to rest, surreptitiously darting glances out the window to identify the intruder. For a few seconds there was nothing and he questioned whether or not he had seen anything at all.

Then a cloaked figure at the force field entrance made him jump nearly out of his skin. Seeing his reaction, she removed her hood and his body relaxed in relief. He opened the field for her to slip inside, then dimmed the lights so that casual passers or camera drones would have trouble seeing inside. "Padme, what are you doing? You've been reported missing."

Organa drew her inside, flicked on a frequency scrambler and led her to the couch where his blaster was. The Senator of Naboo sat with him, trying to face away from windows. "Oh Bail, I didn't know where to turn." She was shaking, afraid. He had never seen this side of her before. "I have to get off Coruscant. He's going to kill me if he finds out what I know. I...I can't believe this is happening." He could sympathize.

"Wait a minute," he said easily, putting a steadying hand on her arm. "Slow down. Who is going to kill you?"

Her dark eyes were wide despite the shadows underneath betraying her weariness. "Palpatine. I've been in hiding since the night the Temple burned." She covered her mouth in horror and he waited patiently for her to regain composure. What she said next stunned him. "I've got security recordings from the Jedi Temple. It's horrific."

Bail gazed at her in new appreciation for a long moment. "How in the world did you get access to that? I've had slicers working for days now."

Her laugh held no humor, only irony. "I walked in a utility entrance in the lower parts and made my way by stealth to the main computer. I got caught on the way out, but was able to talk my way out of it. Bail, there was no attempt to subdue the Jedi. Those Clones walked in there shooting. And Anakin..."

Again, she covered her mouth as tears trickled down her pink cheeks. He was aware of the close friendship she bore the young Jedi and knew this new version of him was as if the old had been killed that same night. Anakin Skywalker was leading an investigation into her whereabouts even now and there were whispers of Clones that had been terminated because of circumstances that no one would talk about.

He sighed, brushing away the urge to admonish her for doing something so risky, and while she carried a baby even! It wouldn't erase the past, though. She was highly intelligent and had known the risks, and he trusted she had good reason. First thing was first. She was right. She had to get off Coruscant quickly. The friendship of Anakin Skywalker would protect someone only so far from Palpatine, who was slowly tightening his leashes on the Senate and the public.

"I can arrange for you to leave Coruscant, but they will be searching Naboo next." Bail didn't deem his next words a betrayal of the Jedi, for here was one that would die with them if found. "I've given sanctuary to two Jedi on Alderaan already, one of whom you already know well, I believe."

Both relief and horror danced in her eyes. "Obi-Wan?" He nodded and she wiped her face with an offered tissue. "Does he know about Anakin?"

Again, Bail nodded, this time wishing he could not. Breha had described breakfast as a solemn affair the day after their arrival, explaining that the Jedi had seen the HoloNet news coverage of Palpatine's glorious triumph over them. Anakin Skywalker had been Kenobi's apprentice. Everyone knew the duo who had fronted the battle lines during the war, seemingly invincible, a matched set, everyone's favorite brothers. Brothers torn asunder, now.

Padme shook her head and he could only imagine the thoughts racing through her mind. Her absent fidgeting with the silky tissue revealed a woman who now no longer had the luxury of being calm and collected, but must remain under constant stress to protect two lives on the line. He felt moved by her plight and by her bravery when she said, "I should be the one to tell him what I've seen."

"I can tell him before you arrive," he suggested, knowing such a meeting would be painful indeed for both Jedi Master and Senator.

But she was resolute. "No. It should come from me." Her eyes moved from the tissue to his gentle regard. "Anakin's my husband."

Her sadness took on a whole new meaning. Bail felt sick for her sake, for all their sakes. "And the baby?" he asked, to which she nodded.

He wasn't a heavy drinker, but after that Bail felt at least one was in order, but he would wait until she was gone before indulging. The thunderstorm of headache behind his eyes pounded even harder now. Leaving her on the couch, he went back to the desk for a private comm unit he had commissioned to remain off the grid with state of the art security to prevent interception and decryption of messages. It wasn't much to move a few assets here and there, hide the trail of credits and obtain reliable transport off Coruscant to another world in the Core where a ship of his own could rendezvous to pick her up. He spoke in hushed tones until the deal was sealed, then returned to where she sat. "It's going to take a few days. Do you have anything you need to take? The protocol droid?"

Padme shook her head, looking as if his thunderstorm had passed onto her. "I had him wiped and left him back at the apartment. He knew where I went. I couldn't take the chance."

"I'll see what I can do about a recovery."

She nodded her thanks as a few more tears gathered at her lashes. "Thank you, Bail. You and Breha have been such good friends to me."

He gave her a mock-stern look. "We'll take care of you. You know that. I still think you should let me tell Kenobi about Skywalker. You don't need that kind of strain."

"I can handle myself," she replied with a pale smile. "It's my responsibility. I let Anakin sway me when I knew the Order wouldn't allow it."

"Anakin Skywalker is a man with his own conscience, capable of making his own choices in life."

She looked unconvinced. "There are reasons they don't allow marriage."

Bail wasn't moved by that explanation one bit. "Are you suggesting they don't allow marriage because they're afraid it will trickle down the slippery slope to homicide? If Jedi dispositions are that fragile, then perhaps I should be worried about housing two with my wife at hand." He shook his head sadly. "Love did not motivate what he's doing now. Hate, greed, fear perhaps, but not love. And those things are in a man, love does not create them."

"Maybe," she conceded tenuously. "I have trouble being certain about anything these days. All that we've worked for has been laid to waste. The fate of the galaxy now hinges on the whims of a madman."

With a great sigh he said what had been on his mind for days now. "Our fates have hinged on the whims of madmen for a long time now, I think. It's only now that one finally made us realize it."


	8. Light in Dark

Sins of the Sons  
by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

Disclaimer: Star Wars = Disney. No buds chill.

oOo

 **BY ORDER OF THE EMPIRE: All Jedi are to be apprehended and turned over to Empire authorities. Use of deadly force permissible.**

It was the latest in a string of evidence exposing the Empire's tightening fist. There were whispers in the crowds. Obi-Wan had experienced this first hand after daring a public market there on Alderaan so he could test the waters, see if he would be recognizable in the fine clothes of a diplomat instead of a Jedi Knight. He had cut back the length of his beard and started letting his hair grow out again to further distance himself from his known appearance, but he drew the line at dyes, preferring to wear a hood as often as he could. Lyra called him silly, but he just wouldn't budge until it became vital he do so. A man could be pushed only so far, after all.

He sat in one of the back alley establishments, feeling this would be the place to go if he wanted to hear anything truly worthwhile. While the citizens of Alderaan weren't shy about their bewilderment at the changes coming out of Coruscant, it was the seedy types that generally had access to more private types of information. Unfortunately, the persona he had to construct to make his costume here in this place believable wasn't one of his favorites.

In the first hour he had been stared at for his finery. Several shady customers eyed him with violent intent. The bartender had flatly asked him what he wanted, to which Obi-Wan had affected a bored tone matched with a glare and said, "Blackstar Whiskey." It was a strong drink known to entice the upper class, but it was illegal and could usually only be found in less than savory establishments. Fortunately, those types of places could be found on any world, even on idyllic worlds like Alderaan (and to be fair, this was one of the nicest seedy taverns he'd ever been in). _Un_ fortunately, the seedier the place, the less likely it was they could afford to carry such a pricey item.

The bartender had sized him up and demanded the credits up front, which Obi-Wan freely provided. He took his drink to a table in the corner where he could watch everyone without seeming to, then proceeded to spend the next forty minutes ordering a few more, handling each more clumsily than the last.

In the second hour things got more interesting. People had grown accustomed to the drunk noble in the corner and started talking a little more freely, as if he weren't there. Obi-Wan was leaned back in his chair with a glazed look, whiskey stained gray shirt and his forefinger lazily running a circle around the rim of his half-drained glass. Someone to his right claimed his cousin was a guard on Coruscant. He said cousin had been on shift at one of the mid-level entrances to commerce building near the Senate building and had seen something fall out of the sky that night, before the Temple had been raided. "Four swears up and down that what he saw was a body," the man was telling his friends in hushed tones.

Another voice, laughing harshly. "I suppose at least _one_ of the senators must have thought death better than this." His companions shared his amusement.

The original voice did not. He sounded shaken. "Four's a good man. He's trained to know what he sees and he thinks it was a Jedi he saw."

At this Obi-Wan's finger stopped swirling. To cover for his lapse, lest anyone realize he was listening, he threw back another swallow and settled on a comfortable cradling of the glass instead. Pretending he was savoring the pleasure of his drink, he leaned back and closed his eyes—mostly.

A third voice interjected, "Well, they did try to assassinate the Chancellor...Emperor. Whatever." Obi-Wan found he could sympathize with the distasteful way the man changed the honorific. "Maybe one of the guards shoved one."

"Yeah, maybe," the original speaker said urgently, angrily. "And if they can do that to a Jedi, what do you think they can do to _us_?"

"Hey, hey." This was the second voice again. "Keep it down."

The first speaker snapped back, "No one on Alderaan would report my words back to those Coruscanti scum."

Two didn't reply to his friend, but instead raised his voice and said, "Hey, stranger."

Obi-Wan pretended not to notice or realize who the man was addressing, still affecting his pleasant inebriation. He sighed inwardly when a shadow darkened the table then sat down across from him. Raising his eyelids like they were twenty pounds heavier, he peered at the stranger and said, "Blacksun? Star? Blackstar?"

The man across from him was rough looking. His smile was unwholesome. "Hey, stranger. You look a little nice for this kind of place."

Rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan took another drink, kept the glass near his lips as he said, "We all need, you know, _something_." He shook his head slowly, rubbed at his brow.

"Something, huh?" the man said, watching him in amusement. "They don't serve the good stuff in those high class joints of yours?"

Obi-Wan gave him a sleepy smirk. "Waterdown juice. Juice. They don't seem to realize we need _stuff_. Things, you know? A vice! That's the word." He jiggled his drink, letting it slosh a little. "D'you know how much I had to pay in fines today? My wife _left_ me. Well, now she can't tell me not to drink anymore. So _there_."

Two slapped him on the shoulder. "Sounds like you had a pretty bad day." He stroked his chin, eyeing the Jedi speculatively. "You know what, friend, I like you. You like vices, eh? Bet you like the women, especially now you're short one. Am I right?"

"Now those are some things I could use," Obi-Wan agreed, nodding with a leer. He could see where this was going and searched his mind for some way out of it. He could try to influence the man's mind with the Force, but if he wasn't sufficiently suggestive it wouldn't work and his attempt could expose him for what he was. Two seemed like the quick thinking type, someone who would be able to shrug off mental suggestion.

Now grinning widely, Two stood up and said, "Me and my boys got a nice arrangement with some girls over at another place. Think you'd enjoy it. Why don't we take you over there?"

Obi-Wan drained his glass and looked up into Two's face, measuring him. "I dunno if I'm drunk enough for that." He patted the place where he kept his credits deliberately, but made it seem like a drunken afterthought. "I mean I'd hate for any lingering, you know, lingering... Your place sell ah, stuff?"

"They're clean girls," Two assured him, seeming to help him to his feet when he was actually insisting. He nodded his boys to join them and started for the door. "Only after effect you'll get may be a headache, but boy, it'll be a good one."

There would be no girls, Obi-Wan well knew, but he could not expose himself as a Jedi if he could help it. So he let them lead him out of public view and mentally steeled himself for what would happen next. It was no surprise when Two threw him against the wall and the other two of his friends held him pinned by his shoulders. Obi-Wan shoved back and pulled a blaster out of his dark brown overcoat, which made them laugh at his drunken clumsiness.

"He's got a toy," Two said and darted for Obi-Wan's wrist. He slammed the Jedi's arm against the brick wall, causing the weapon to fall. The two at his sides pressed him back again and this time one of them pulled a vibroblade. His glare was hungry, daring.

At that point Obi-Wan stopped struggling, stammered, "T-take anything you want," and prepared himself to let them complete the robbery they had planned. He had to act sufficiently startled, yet still bear the effects of drinking and gentle upbringing. It was a delicate balance.

Two rifled through his coat and found the stash of credits Obi-Wan had surreptitiously shown him where to find, giving them a quick count. One and Three then shoved him to his knees. He could sense they did not intend to murder him, the only thing that kept him from unleashing his power even though he could sense violence at his left. A hard kick to the shoulder sent Obi-Wan sprawling to his side onto the pavement where he remained, giving them enough time to run in the opposite direction as he lay there in very real pain. When he could sense they were good and gone, he rolled to his back and heaved a great sigh. Staring up at the clouds for a few seconds, he thought, _I'm getting too old for this._

With a bit of effort he pushed himself off the ground, brushed himself off and decided to call it a day. Trouble seemed to find him no matter where he went these days. He rolled his shoulder to make sure it wasn't broken and winced, but was satisfied it would work after a nice infusion of pain reliever. He tried to avoid the main streets and when he made it to the transport the queen had graciously offered, sank into it gratefully.

So, someone had possibly seen a Jedi fall from the skies on that so fateful of nights. Now, Obi-Wan knew not to put faith in second-hand words. There were two kinds of people. Those who told tall tales and those who said little if it was not true. The man in the bar seemed convinced that at least his cousin had _believed_ he saw a body fall, and that this body was a Jedi. If he was a security guard he was probably at least somewhat trained in observation. It wasn't much. Certainly nothing he would put any sort of hope in, but it did serve to highlight the opinions coming out of Coruscant. So far people were uncertain, wary to believe what their Senators had so willingly agreed to.

He couldn't say he blamed them.

Back at the mountain retreat he saw Lyra waiting for him at the landing pad, her arms folded as she leaned against a pillar. Her eyes trailed his soiled clothing. "How much did you drink?" she asked with a half-smile.

Obi-Wan looked down, then waved her off. "Not enough." He sighed at her scrutiny, knew she had sensed his altercation. "I was robbed."

A normal friend would have been concerned. Not Lyra. She let out a small laugh, shook her head and said, "Obi-Wan Kenobi, robbed by street thugs. Did they hurt you?" A little concern there. Much better.

" _No_ ," he retorted, his brow knit. They started walking into the estate. He made an effort to keep his shoulder immobile. "But I couldn't very well let them know I was a Jedi, now could I? They roughed me up, took my credits. Nothing more." He gave her a sidelong glance. "Oh, and they offered me a night to remember with a gaggle of women bent on, well, it's rather impolite of me to say. Clean ones, too, if you can believe that."

Lyra rolled her eyes very visibly at his words, then shot her finger into his side, making him jolt with a groan. Pain radiated from his shoulder. "Well, it would have been a shame to disappoint those poor girls, so good for you for not going." They both laughed.

The word 'clean' made him very aware of just how uncomfortable it was to be damp with alcohol and crunchy with dirt. He thought longingly of the refresher back in his quarters, imagined at length how nice the warm water would feel. He regretted ruining his clothing, though. While he was having difficulty steering clear of the traditional Jedi neutral palette, he found himself settling nicely into the comfortable _feel_ of the finer things in life. Yoda would return to a pampered, lazy Jedi Master who had put on a few dozen pounds if he wasn't careful.

"Breha and Bail have a task for us, if you plan to stop drinking..." she started.

"...If only you had left me like I'd told them," he lamented before she could finish.

"What?"

Obi-Wan smirked at his own private joke. "Nothing. What is it they wish?"

For a few extra seconds she tried to press him with her eyes, but he remained silent on the subject and she let it pass. "Bail's men downloaded a cache of private files that belonged to Palpatine. Communications, memos, to-do lists, plans, a whole horde of information. He suggests it would be faster if we go through them and let his men concentrate on slicing the 'esteemed' Emperor's private databases."

"Oh wonderful," he sighed, stopping at his quarters door. "Sounds like hours and hours of fun. Still, I suppose it's better than sitting around watching the HoloNet all day. I'm getting sick of the news."

Her face softened. "We both are. I'll tell the queen we'll be happy to."

Obi-Wan nodded his agreement, then shifted gears before heading off to that blissful land of showering. "Dinner here?" When she agreed he went into his bedroom, picked out a simple shirt in cobalt blue with a cozy pair of navy pants, then made straight for the refresher to worship the water that would free his soul.

His soiled clothing hit the corner after a toss. After turning on the water, Obi-Wan looked at his shoulder critically in the mirror, wincing at the large purple bruise that met his eyes. Had that kick been any harder it could very well have broken his bones. As it was, he wasn't so certain there wasn't at least a hairline fracture going on somewhere in there. A tentative roll produced an unhealthy grinding.

The water was nice. He stepped under it, let it soak his hair, and just stood there for a moment to enjoy it. Was it because the human body was mostly water? Was it a return to the comfort of the womb? Whatever the case, submersion had this strange power to soften the darkest of moods, even if it couldn't erase them. Maybe cleansing the body had the same effect on the psyche, allowing one to brush away cares as if they were mere particles of dirt.

When he finished he could feel his body already slipping into a gentle relaxation. He brushed back his wet hair, eyed his shoulder again with a sigh, then clothed himself in the soft laundered scent of Alderaanian spice. He left the 'fresher on bare feet, went into the living area and found Lyra already sitting with her feet tucked onto the couch, a data pad in her hand. "I've called for dinner," she said, and trailed her eyes from his feet to his face. Quickly, she went back to her work.

Obi-Wan sat across from her where another data pad waited for him. "I suppose you're already browsing the files?" he asked, flipping it on.

"The sooner we get started, the faster we'll find out whatever it is we need to find out," she returned without another glance. What was this?

He watched her for a long moment, then shook his head with one side of his mouth quirked. The data index before him was prosaic, with no surprises or hidden folders where the important stuff would be. Obi-Wan navigated to a folder of memos from and to the Chancellor dated back at least 5 years. He wondered what had happened to the files from the years before. Had they been erased or sent to another archive that the slicers had yet to find?

All in all it was pretty boring stuff. Mostly petty politics. Sometimes the memos would reference the war, but there seemed to be nothing the Jedi had not been aware of going on in the communications. Obi-Wan hated political discourse. He had always chided Anakin when he had balked at specific lessons, particularly galactic history, but found his own attention flagging like he was a first year apprentice.

When dinner came it was a welcome distraction. Lyra laughed at him when he tossed the data pad to the couch as quickly as the door chimed, but he also noticed she had the same distaste when she set aside hers. There was a table near the door leading onto the balcony where they enjoyed a light avian based delicacy with the Emerald Wine brewed by the House of Organa. They discussed what he had experienced in the public areas of Alderaan, what Lyra had heard on the HoloNet today and what they had read so far in the files of Emperor Palpatine. But his mind wasn't fully committed to those thoughts when he knew they should be.

After dinner they enjoyed another glass of wine on the balcony. It was there, watching glowing insects out in the grass and trees, with the steady lull of a nearby waterfall, Obi-Wan decided to pose to his companion a question that had been in the back of his thoughts for years. "I would like to ask you something. You might prefer I hadn't when I say it." He avoided her questioning eyes, feeling strangely awkward despite their longstanding relationship.

"Let me have another drink," she said, then sipped from her glass. He gave her a chiding look then, but knew she was only trying to put him at ease and so could not help but soften his gaze.

Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, wanting this to sound casual, but he knew there was no getting around that it was a very personal question that probably wasn't any of his business. Still, he wanted to know and more than that, found himself preferring a specific answer despite every reason his training provided that said he should not. Though he had steeled himself and when he asked he sounded perfectly neutral, he was still a bit ashamed at himself for saying, "Were you and Qui-Gon ever intimate?"

Her eyes flew open wide at his question. Clearly she had not been prepared for it, but he supposed that she hadn't snapped at him yet was a good sign. A blush rose to her cheeks and he felt doubly ashamed for his curiosity. "Obi-Wan, I was a young girl," she replied, her voice very soft and a little breathless. "Do you think for a moment he would have allowed that?"

"Well, I meant after you were of age, of course," he quickly amended. He knit his brow, went back to bug watching. "You're right, I suppose. I know he would never have done anything..." Well, he couldn't say 'wrong', because Qui-Gon Jinn had broken rules all the time. But there was wrong and then there were lines he knew even his master would never cross. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she assured him, moving closer, touching him on his good shoulder. "You can ask me anything. I was surprised, that's all." He touched her hand in gratitude that she wasn't angry, then she asked, "What made you wonder?"

Obi-Wan took a drink of his wine. "I saw the way you would look at him." He had never said anything out of his own affection for both, but for some reason the night seemed to be coaxing foolish words out of his mouth. It wasn't the alcohol, he could counteract most of that. No, it was the warmth that had been with him since their arrival on Alderaan, across from him in his bed, a comfort he was growing all too fond of.

Instead of anger, he felt a mild amusement trickle through the Force. It made him look at her quiet smile. "Qui-Gon loved Melyssi." That didn't really surprise him, but what did surprise him was his own failure to take it into account. Lyra was blushing again. "I suppose it might have influenced me a little."

"Then you wanted to be with him?" he assumed, his voice lower, his control lessening with the quickening of the complex emotions he could not restrain.

Her gaze was silken and tender, her whisper a flutter of leaves in the wind as she shook her head. " _My_ heart belonged to someone else."

For a long moment his eyes asked the question and hers gave the answer. Cautiously, he rested his hand on her shoulder and let his fingers play with the fabric, touching her skin underneath. He found he liked how she shivered at each stroke. Letting his hand slide softly up to her jaw, he took her chin and said, "And if I want with you, what Qui-Gon had with her?" He did not ask himself why he was doing this, why he was allowing himself to explore the very unJedi things on his mind. He had been considering these thoughts for days and had come to an answer he felt he could reconcile with.

Lyra moved closer to him, the soft scent of flowers rushing upon him. Her shining eyes were very serious. "It's always been yours to have. But are you sure this isn't grief?"

Something had changed in him, a realization had been made. Yes, he had moved to kiss her that first night here on Alderaan. And yes, that had been grief and need. But what he felt now was older than that, older than the betrayals and war and the deaths they had grown through. It was just now, after all that darkness, he saw how fundamental it was to cling to all that was light. Love _was_ light. His failure with Anakin, to give Anakin what he had so desperately needed, had taught him that only fear could twist love into something other than light.

And Obi-Wan Kenobi was not a man who feared anymore.

"I'm sure," he whispered, then took her mouth against his own for the first time. In a storm of kisses and affection they made their way into his bedroom where his clothes and hers were soon on the floor, forgotten.

oOo

She stood alone at the window watching sunrise that morning. The dawn bled sweet colors of orange and pink into an inky purple sky, then gradually faded out to blue as the day swept away the last vestiges of night. Holding a throw around her, Lyra listened as birds chirped in the trees, but her heart was still in that bed. Turning, she let her eyes trail lazily over the sheet covering his lower half, on up his muscled back and across the purple bruise he wore as a badge marking yesterday's robbery. Not that it marred his beauty. She had traced every line with her eyes over the years, every scar, every move, and loved them all.

She abandoned the majesty outside and sat back onto bed to be near him.

His cheek was against his pillow and his hair carelessly falling down his forehead. Lyra pressed her fingers against it and smoothed it back, watching as he stirred at her touch. His blue eyes opened halfway and she whispered, "I'm sorry."

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he urged her close and kissed her hip, then nuzzled against it as if he meant to fall back asleep that way. Lyra laughed and leaned against the wall, content to let him, even if it wasn't very comfortable for her. Instead of sleep, he said, "It wasn't a bad way to be awakened," and tugged the throw off her chest, giving her a playful leer. "Now, that's even better."

Sliding under the sheets, Lyra snuggled up against him and laughed, "Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're secretly a very bad man," then claimed a kiss in compensation. Resting her forehead against his, she started rubbing his shoulder softly. The warmth of his skin made her drowsy, but she couldn't give in just yet. "Yoda isn't going to be happy with us."

Obi-Wan draped his arm across her hip and closed his eyes. "He wasn't always happy with Qui-Gon either, but they managed to navigate around their differences. We will be no different. Do you think he supposed the truth about them?"

Lyra thought back, had to shake her head. "If he did Qui-Gon never knew or suspected, except maybe there at the end, when they informed him of her dying." She ran her hand up his neck, traced a thumb across his scruffy jawline. "Obi-Wan, we have to be careful not to let this change our mission as Jedi. We gave ourselves to the Order and while I believe both a bond to it and to each other is possible, we have to make them compliment one another instead of clash."

He nodded, but his eyes remained shut. "Agreed. So we employ reason." He tapped his fingers against her hip thoughtfully, making her smile. "One," he began, poking her to highlight the bullet point. "Being a Jedi inherently means a relationship with danger. We accept this and never demand the other remain out of harm's way. Our duty to the galaxy remains; it is who we are. It might be difficult at times, but I think the key is trust in one another's abilities as Jedi."

"Agreed." She smoothed her hand along his chest, poked him in the abdomen, saying, "Two. Attachment can provoke jealousy."

"That's negligible," he replied with a shrug. This time he did open his eyes and gave her a bright grin. "I've no need to be jealous because you could never want anything after me."

Lyra jabbed his abdomen again, this time harder. "You have the most annoying humor. Where in the world did you acquire it?"

Obi-Wan settled back down, closed his eyes again and murmured, "Dexter Jettster. Besides, I could never want anything after you as well. And as far as jealousy over your time, your dedication to the Order, again that comes back to our agreement that our duty is paramount." He poked her hip for the third point. "Third and most difficult so far. We must accept death as an inevitability." His hand stroked her hip softly as if to quell the sorrow of his statement, his voice low and subdued. "If I were to die I would want you to do everything you could to go on making this galaxy a better place. Promise me you would do that. I want you to be a shining light, always."

Her brow knit as strong emotions coursed through her, Lyra nodded against his forehead and pulled him closer. "I promise. You promise too."

"I do." He nuzzled his nose against hers gently and they remained still for a while. She was almost asleep when he breathed, "Anything else?"

A moment's thought brought her to a point Qui-Gon had discussed with Melyssi. "We can't ask the other to leave the Order for this, even if we ourselves decided to leave. No matter what, we must respect the other's choices in all things and leave no room for anger or hurt to fester. Every moment together is a gift."

"And we talk about every feeling," he added, poking her each word, stopping only when she pinched his side. His had moved to her chin, held it as he raked his eyes across her face. "Utter trust and honesty. No judgment."

Lyra pecked him on the lips and amended, "Except when you unleash your humor. I can't help but judge you then."

Laughing and stealing another kiss, he said, "I can live with that," before rolling her to her back, his playfulness growing as the last vestiges of sleep wore away.

It was late morning when they finally got out of bed. The queen had returned from her palace duties and offered them lunch with her. It was there, dining with her, they learned that they would be soon joined by Senator Amidala, who was seeking political asylum on Alderaan. The news did not surprise either of the Jedi, who knew the new galactic order would not sit well with the Senator of Naboo. Even Senator Organa was towing the line in remaining on Coruscant.

It was evening when the ship carrying her arrived. Queen Breha, Obi-Wan and Lyra went to the landing pad to greet a very round and tired looking Padme Amidala, whose eyes carried a haunted look that Lyra had never seen on her in the news or from afar. Like Senator Organa, she had never had the chance to speak with Senator Amidala, but knew her by reputation to be strong willed and focused on the good of the people, one of the few honest politicians in the Senate.

There was a veil of anxiety woven tightly around the young Senator. When she reached them she was embraced by Breha and offered the Jedi a respectful nod of her head, but there was more on her lips to say, Lyra could sense. And she could feel the crux of her nervousness was centered on one of them in particular—Obi-Wan. "It's been a long trip," she said, wearily rubbing at her temples. "I have so much to tell you. I don't even know where to begin."

Breha also seemed to pick up on Amidala's emotions, touching her gently on the shoulder. "Why don't you take a moment to freshen up? Then we'll see about dinner. Obi-Wan and Lyra have rooms right beside yours, so with that and my security you should feel very safe. You can rest as long as you need here. And the child, when it comes."

Amidala clasped Breha's hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. "I know I could not be in better hands. Thank you, Breha. You and Bail have been so good to me. I can never repay that."

"There would never be a need," the queen replied graciously, and led the way into the guest quarters. Amidala was placed in the suite across from Lyra, where she disappeared to wash the dust of the road off and compose herself.

They had dinner in an intimate setting designed to put the weary and worn at ease. Candles flickered and the music of a fountain lulled them sweetly. When they were seated with their meals and the servants had retreated for their privacy, Lyra felt the Senator's resolution come to bear. "You might be wondering why I've come, why I cannot do as Bail is and remain in the Senate to protect my people." She produced a small data chip and data pad, setting them on the table before her. Her eyes flickered between the two Jedi, then settled on Obi-Wan, with whom she was familiar. "I went to the Jedi Temple that night and downloaded the security records of what went on. If Palpatine knew that I knew..." She trailed off, shook her head as if it would banish her imagination of what would happen.

"My lady, you've placed yourself in grave danger," Obi-Wan replied, his voice a mix of awe and sternness. "Not to mention your unborn child."

By her eyes Lyra could see there wasn't anything he could say that the Senator had not already considered many times. Amidala nodded softly, accepting his gentle reproof. "I know, but believe me when I say I believe the knowledge on that data chip is worth the risk. It proves that what happened that night was no attempt at seizure, but murder, and more than that it shows us whom we cannot trust."

Lyra felt Obi-Wan's emotions flutter in pain. "Anakin."

The Senator looked at him compassionately and with something else, another emotion that seemed a strange companion to the first. Guilt. Amidala took a drink and looked down at her plate, her food barely touched. "I have something to confess to you, Obi-Wan. You suspected Anakin's feelings for me, he said."

"Yes." His voice was measured, sad.

Amidala continued. "What you did not know was that I returned those feelings and what's more, we allowed those feelings lead Anakin in breaking the Jedi Code." She looked into his eyes, begging for understanding. "We were married after Geonosis, when he escorted me back to Naboo."

Lyra could feel he was surprised at the admission, but that it wasn't as shocking as it might have been were it another padawan and another master. Stroking his beard, Obi-Wan let out a deep breath. "And the child?" Amidala nodded once, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. He wasn't angry, just felt very sad for yet another casualty of his padawan's change. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry too," she said softly, gazing through the table, seemingly lost among the sorrow. If Lyra could pinpoint her thoughts she would be they were lightyears away. No wonder Anakin headed the interviews on the HoloNet when it came to the stories about Amidala being missing. Obi-Wan had said his former padawan wasn't going to rest until his close friend—his _wife!_ —was found. "I never dreamed that these things were possible. Even now I feel stunned and it seems to never go away. All this time I thought I was helping him to see clearly when he would listen to no one else. But I just gave him what he wanted and it encouraged him to demand more from everyone else."

At that a sharp anger flared in Obi-Wan, but quickly diminished under his training. "You did not do this to him. Was it against the Code? Yes, but others have done the same without such extreme results." He rubbed his forehead as if a headache were forming. "I failed him. I was supposed to mold him and I failed. I did not see what he was becoming, or if I did I tried to believe otherwise for both our sakes. I didn't know how to do what Qui-Gon asked me to do, but I stubbornly clung to it because I couldn't let him down and in that I failed them both." Under the table Lyra pressed her hand along his thigh, trying to impart some comfort. He reached for her hand and held it.

It was Breha who spoke next and Lyra inwardly praised her wisdom. "You both forget that Anakin Skywalker has a will of his own and by that will sided with Palpatine, who wields no small amount of influence when someone puts their faith in him."

"And he is the Chosen One," Lyra added an idea she had been toying with. Her idea made her feel cold inside, helpless against the tides of the Force, but hopeful at the same time. She let her focus drift between the three of her companions. "We do not understand the prophecy fully. This may be a part of it. Palpatine may have been a part of it. Do we know what was said between them behind closed doors?"

Padme's tears finally spilled as she looked at the data card. "Yes," she whispered, wiping her face with the remnants of her dignity. "We do." She again met Obi-Wan's gaze, her pain shining in the Force like a sun that's too bright. "He's on those recordings. He killed Jedi without a word. Younglings, even. And when he reported to Palpatine over the comm he called him 'master'. I think... I think he's the Sith Lord."

Obi-Wan had tensed at her words, was now eyeing the data chip like it was a dangerous serpent poised to strike. Beneath the table his hand tightened along Lyra's as he reached for it with the other hand. He let go to insert the chip into the data reader and held it so Breha and Lyra could see as well, then instructed the reader to play five minute highlights of captures in which the cameras caught non-Jedi motion.

After the first four rounds Obi-Wan's aura in the Force felt a sorrow that he could hold in check. A few more rounds and his aura was mired in a grief he could not begin to wash away. Anakin seemed to take no delight in his doings, but neither did he seem troubled. The dark expression he wore was like a shield on the face of a man who knew he was justified and had a solemn duty to carry out. And when the younglings asked him what they were going to do, when he raised his lightsaber, Obi-Wan tossed the data pad onto the table and got up, walking to a nearby window where he could compose himself again.

Lyra turned the reader off before the children's screams could torment them. Her stomach was in knots and she was glad she hadn't eaten much. Breha was pale and took a long sip of her Emerald Wine. For the longest time no one said anything. A return to sanity came only when Obi-Wan had pulled himself together, had come back to the table and said to Amidala, "You put yourself at great risk for this information. Thank you for that, my lady. Master Lyra and I will, of course, do all we can to ensure your safety. Anakin will be looking for you, even if he doesn't realize you have this information. We'll do everything we can to keep him from finding you, but you must agree never to try to contact him or accept any promises of safety from him."

The Senator's eyes held a steel resolution that was reflected in her emotions as she said, "You have my word." She had the bearing of a woman who believed her husband was dead.

Lyra wondered how long it would take Obi-Wan to reach the same conclusion. She mourned that this was the only way he was going to be able to accept what was going to have to happen, the only thing that could happen if they were to protect the galaxy. Because if it was true, if his former padawan was now in league with the Sith, was on his way to becoming one himself, then the story could end only one tragic way.

Someone was going to have to kill Anakin Skywalker.

oOo

Thanks for the reviews and other expressions of interest. :-) I needs a Jedi to snuggle wuggle. A drunk Jedi will do.


	9. Summons

Sins of the Sons

by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

oOo

 _Anakin_

The office was dark, with only the lights of Coruscant's evening to reflect back into cold, azure eyes that watched the coming stars. He sat with his chair swiveled to face the window, his back to the door, and maintained a focus on a single point of light in the sky. Into that point of light he drove his anger, his fear, his love, lust, ambitions. He focused on the Force that made all things, called it into him and let it wash over his soul, searing it with its power. Because when he let up on that focus, that's when the demons came to torment him.

Anakin Skywalker. Lord Skywalker. No longer a master. No longer a knight. The people still thought of him as a Jedi, for the most part, despite the fact that he denounced them and clothed himself in black. They could not divorce him from the savior they had known. This suited his purposes just fine, but each time they looked to him as their hero he heard the still small voice of the demons whispering that it was a lie, all a lie.

The reminder fed his anger. He was unable to smile back anymore, not to those that looked up to him. Nor to the one who looked down on him from on high. Palpatine was showing him great things, power that he had never before tapped, but the greatest lesson of all was that to trust was to be betrayed and to hope was to sentence one's self to death.

No, he amended to himself, Palpatine only augmented that final lesson. For Anakin had been taught the horrors of hope early on. He had hoped to free his mother and a part of him had died. He had hoped to be apprenticed to Qui-Gon Jinn, another piece of him slain with the death of his savior. He had hoped for Obi-Wan's unconditional approval, hoped for a future of love and joy with Padme, hoped that he would be looked on as the greatest Jedi ever. Yes. Hope was poisonous. It struck you when you looked away, sucked your life's blood and spat it back into your face.

He was losing his focus. Boring his eyes into that star, he forced every attachment out of his mind except one. Padme. That was one he would not allow to slip away from him. He would find her. He would make the Force give her back to him. He would not let that hope go astray. He would destroy this universe before letting that happen.

She had been seen at the Jedi Temple the night of Order 66, he had learned. The night he had killed Mace Windu. The night he had killed many Jedi. The security footage had been rolling even as her footsteps carried her through the halls of violence and death, into the main computer hub, where she had accessed the mainframe and taken data from it. The logs showed an access and download of the security footage of the past few days.

And now she knew what a monster she had married.

That was the only thing he could suppose, given the evidence. Directly after that she had gone missing. She had left him without giving him a chance to explain. She had left him alone in the darkness closing in around him, she whom he had given his very soul to save. She whom he had loved for what felt like thousands of eons. The match to his spirit, if such a thing could be said to exist.

He would find her. He would make her see. She had to see the truth, had to return, had to give him back the only thing he found worth living for. Without her there would be no point in going on. There would be no justification for his existence. Because if she turned away from him it meant he really was a monster.

No. His hands had curled into fists. Anakin clenched his jaw and closed his eyes to hold in the sudden wetness there. She would see. It had all been for her. She had to see that.

The door chimed, pulling Anakin out of the desperate ruminations that assaulted him whenever he was alone. His star had failed him. Maybe someday he would destroy it for being so cruel.

Wiping his face and composing himself, he turned his chair, flicked his fingers with the Force and turned the light back on. Beckoning entry revealed a Clone with his helmet tucked under his arm. Commander Cody. Cody bowed a little uncertainly. He had never had to genuflect to a Jedi before. "My Lord," he said without missing a beat, though—and maybe Anakin was just imagining—he sounded a bit dubious about it.

Anakin motioned him to sit, which he did. He folded his hands on his dark lacquered desk and said, "I've read the reports, but I want you to tell me in your own words what happened on Utapau."

The Clone seemed uneasy. Maybe he had heard what had happened to the two Clones that had let Padme leave the Jedi Temple without contacting him. Whatever the case, Cody was no longer his comrade in arms. He was a subordinate addressing his boss, through and through, no more friendly rapport between them. "I fought along the front lines. General Kenobi went directly for Grievous and killed him by blaster shot. That's how we found the body, my Lord, and at some point General Kenobi had dropped his saber off the catwalks. I handed him back his weapon myself."

"Interesting. Go on."

"Well, it's like the report said, sir." He was clearly uncomfortable with Anakin's cold stare, but was impressive in his ability to outwardly conceal it. Perfect training. Perfect discipline. "General Kenobi got on his mount and was headed up to the city proper when I received Order 66. We took aim and shot the beast he was on, knocking both into the sinkhole. I sent men to investigate, but they didn't find a body—neither his nor his mount's." His black eyes bore into Anakin's with an iron will. "He fell hundreds of feet, Lord Skywalker. No human could survive that. I'll vouch for my men."

Leaning back in his leather chair, Anakin took a deep breath and met Cody eye to eye for a long minute. It was a battle of wills only he could win, but he had better things to do than test it. Instead, he started with the obvious. "Obi-Wan Kenobi is no normal human being."

Cody cocked his head thoughtfully. "The Jedi aren't invincible."

"Nearly so," Anakin countered.

"Mace Windu didn't take well to his fall."

Another long stretch of silence passed as Anakin wondered how much Cody supposed about the way Windu had died. It was common knowledge now that he was the Jedi assassin that had been killed in the attempt, but Cody's tone made him wonder what was being whispered when he wasn't aware. Or maybe it was his own guilt that ate at him. Anakin absently curled one hand into a fist, the only sign of his inward struggle. Cody didn't feel like a man who despised his superior, only feared him. This was good. "General Kenobi had the benefit of water at the end of his fall. He could easily have used the Force to break the surface tension of the water before he hit. We were trained to think of these things in emergency situations."

There was no other reply Cody could make, but, "I apologize, sir. I wasn't aware. I take full responsibility for assuming." There was a trickle of anxiety, but also resolution to meet his fate head on. It told Anakin that the Clones were probably in general aware of what had happened when he discovered the two that had let Padme leave the Temple. They had been buried without their heads in graves marked only by call numbers. Cody probably assumed he was about to meet the same end.

Which was why Anakin decided against it. The two other Clones had been a response of pure rage. He was not angry, could not be angry when he knew just how powerful his master was. No match for his apprentice, of course, but powerful nonetheless. If he had lived, had truly been the one that stole Grievous's ship that day—and Anakin had very little doubt about it—then it could not be held against the Clones for their inability to stop him. Obi-Wan was crafty, adept in what the populace derisively termed the 'Jedi Mindtrick'. He could slip by most unnoticed.

Anakin shook his head at Cody. "You are demoted by one rank. You will aid Rex in the investigates into both Kenobi's disappearance and that of Senator Padme Amidala. If you can produce either of them I will reinstate your rank. Produce both and you will receive a promotion further. Does this seem a fair judgment to you?"

The question took Cody aback, who was probably still surprised he had managed to survive the past few minutes. "More than fair, my lord." What else would you say when you had been given your life and career back when you had thought all was lost?

One of Palpatine's first lessons had been what he termed 'The Delicate Balance'. There was a delicate balance in striking fear into those you subjugated and in keeping them sufficiently hopeful that their destinies were at least somewhat in their hands, enough to keep the peace while maintaining the maximum amount of control over them. The Emperor's arena was the grand expanse of the galaxy. Anakin's training grounds would be among the military. And so he would give Cody every chance to redeem himself. Others may or may not be so lucky.

He allowed his expression to ease into a casual stance. "Good. Report to Rex in the morning. You will have access to any resource necessary toward achieving your goal, all you need is to order it. I expect a status report at the end of the week. You're dismissed."

Cody hesitated, still reeling a bit, but his emotions tended towards gratitude as the surprise wore away. He stood and gave Anakin a fist to the chest salute and said, "Thank you, my lord. I will not fail you."

And then Anakin Skywalker found himself alone again. He checked the chrono on his terminal, saw he had a half hour left before the crew from the HoloNet arrived to take a statement he had prepared. It wasn't often he spoke to the public. He never had cared for private interviews in front of imaging droids. It felt cold, impersonal and moderately ridiculous to be talking to a lens. The only real relationship he enjoyed with the spotlight had been during Podracing. Force, it felt like a dream he had had, so long ago. Could he have been that child? Memories felt like looking back at something he had seen on the Holo. Now he raced among the stars, but these days his only competitor was the anger and sorrow, and against them he was no match it seemed.

Standing, he moved to a small water unit and took an icy drink to refresh himself. When the last small bit was left in the bottom of his cup he dipped his fingers in, spread the water around his hands and ran it along his face, basking in the coolness. Dabbing a napkin across his damp skin, he turned at the chirping of the door and used the Force to open it.

A beautiful blond human walked in with her camera droid. She was part of the evening crew at the HoloNet's leading Coruscanti news station. "Lord Skywalker," she greeted him, smiling with ruby red lips and flashing blue eyes. "I'm here to take your statement. Are you ready to begin?"

"Sure," he replied dryly as a makeup crewman sidestepped his anchor and started powdering Anakin's face to reduce shine. This was another reason to hate news interviews, although he had rather enjoyed watching Obi-Wan get powdered once or twice.

The thought burned him. Anakin firmly pushed it out of his mind, then stalked past the crewman to sit at his desk. He saw the anchorwoman shrug at her makeup assistant, then prodded the droid into taking position. It stood before the desk, but swiveled its head around to capture her introduction first. "Live in 3...2...1...live," it announced in its mechanical voice.

The anchor smiled brightly for the HoloNet. "Greetings Galaxy. This is Sinya Quetta coming to you live from the office of Supreme Commander Anakin Skywalker." The droid swiveled the camera towards Anakin in a whir of servos as Quetta continued, "Lord Skywalker, I understand you have a message for us and for the remaining Jedi at large?"

"Yes, Miss Quetta," he said, but favored the camera with his gaze instead. He had schooled his expression into one of grave concern, yet tinged with the camaraderie of a shared past and the hope of an understanding. To do this one had to almost believe it were possible. Almost. "Yes. First I wish to address the missing Jedi who may be in hiding and without a clear path to follow. I urge you to come back to Coruscant. The war is over. Now is a time for peace, not division. Return and you will be judged fairly. If you are loyal to the Empire and thus loyal to the ideals you were taught, such as peace, honor and justice, then you will find a place here where you can practice those beliefs away from the corruption of the Jedi Council."

He let out a deep sigh, looked down at his desk briefly and moved a data pad closer, but did not read from it yet. Returning his gaze to the camera, he went on, "I was one of you. Believe me when I say I was just as confused by the events that have transpired. Believe me when I also say that I was there that night, when the Jedi Council took justice into their own hands and attempted to assassinate the Chancellor. You and I both know that is not the Jedi way, which is why I could not allow it to continue. Unfortunately, many Jedi made the mistake of misunderstanding that night, a mistake that cost the Order dearly. Instead of reason, many chose to fight without even having a clear picture of what they were fighting for. I implore any remaining Jedi out there to consider their mistake and the end to which it led, and to come forward so that your loyalty can be demonstrated. I promise you a private hearing with truth and justice as your judge. But I can only extend this offer once. You have thirty days."

Anakin then took the data reader into his hand. "To the public I say this. Should you come across any of the missing Jedi by order of the Emperor they are to be apprehended and delivered to Coruscant, live if at all possible. Anyone found to be concealing a Jedi without contacting authorities will be arrested and tried for treason. We have compiled a list of the names of Jedi that have gone unaccounted for, which I will read presently." And so he read each name for them, very aware that this second statement was a ridiculous counterpart to the first. No Jedi would fall for it after hearing any of their benefactors were guilty of treason. But there was the public to consider, so Palpatine taught him. To maintain justice for the public eye one had to extend even those offers that would never be taken up. And if a Jedi here or there did return by his urging, that was an added bonus.

Would they receive a fair trial? Anakin couldn't say. He wanted to believe Palpatine would make good on his promise to let Jedi who swore loyalty have a quiet life, if one in captivity, but he had his doubts.

The final two names were the hardest to say. Master Yoda and Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. When he said his master's name, he looked up into the camera and cast the data reader aside for an impromptu statement. "And to you, my former Master, I say this. Come home. Come home and swear your fealty to the Empire. Come home and we can both serve the galaxy as we should, side by side. I've missed your counsel and your friendship. Come home, swear your loyalty and I will do everything in my power to protect you. Come to me directly, to the place we used to go every year in the beginning, all those years ago. Come home for both our sakes."

Palpatine wasn't going to like that little bit. Anakin knew he was looking at punishment for daring it, and he wasn't even sure himself what had made him do it when he knew Obi-Wan would probably never follow such a summons. "Thank you," he said, then nodded to Quetta to cut the feed. She murmured a goodbye that he barely acknowledged as he moved to stand at the window to again fix his gaze on that point of light, more visible now that night had fallen.

Anakin told himself he had done it for Palpatine, so that they could capture a well respected Jedi Master to make their call for other Jedi to return more attractive. Obi-Wan Kenobi would be a great prize. Of course, by that logic Yoda would make an even better prize.

Yet it wasn't Yoda with whom he had pleaded.

oOo

There on beautiful Alderaan, at the breakfast table of Queen Breha, sat the queen, Senator Amidala, Obi-Wan and his companion Lyra. Their collective attentions were attuned to the Holo feed on a screen nearby in what was fast becoming their morning ritual after a satisfying breakfast on fine food and good conversation. On the news this morning was a repeat of a statement from Supreme Commander Anakin Skywalker, given live only three hours before, when the companions were just awakening for the day.

He was personally calling the Jedi to return to Coruscant with kindness in one hand and treachery in the other. His statement confirmed now that Bail and Breha were both technically traitors to the Empire because of their willingness to aid the Jedi, a bit of news that Breha had waved away after hearing it. She and her husband were the noblest of souls. It was a debt they could never repay except through service to Alderaan and to the galaxy as a whole. Sometimes after these little announcements Yoda would give them the chance to back out, a chance they never took. And so each time Yoda promised his service in return, that someday Alderaan and other worlds would be free of the Empire, if it took the last Jedi alive to bring it to pass.

Four more Jedi had been found and hidden, warned against any deals the Empire might offer. Anakin's list had also unwittingly given them a clue on other possible leads, though the list had been painfully small in comparison to what had been lost. He believed few on that list would be susceptible to his former padawan's offers.

And then Anakin had addressed him personally. Come home. Those two words rang through him like the tolling of a death knell over his heart. Without even being fully aware he spoke aloud, Obi-Wan whispered numbly, "He actively wants me dead." What had he done to deserve such hate from one whom he loved so dear?

The women looked at him with three brands of compassion. Padme shook her head, saying, "You can't know that, Obi-Wan."

He felt his brow knit, his jaw tighten. "I can," he retorted, trying to keep his voice steady, "because he knows damn well Palpatine would never let me survive the night if I returned." He felt his hand shake and pressed his fist against his mouth to give it an anchor. Looking away from the HoloNet, he focused instead of the reflection of the sun off a bottle if wine near the end of the table.

"And the place you used to go?" she asked him, her voice softer now, less hopeful.

He couldn't look up. "Where they keep Qui-Gon's ashes." Even the old pain of that felt sharp again, renewed by the whetstone of Anakin's betrayal of not only Obi-Wan, but the man that had saved him from slavery all those years ago.

Lyra took his other hand into hers, sending her love across his aura in a river that tried to soothe his pain. He wanted it to work, but his center was gone after hearing Anakin speak to him. Come home. Come home. He wanted to, he wanted to return home, but knew there was no home to return to. Only ashes. Only despair and the corpses of innocents, cut down by the one he had taught to do only good in this universe. Their blood was on Anakin's hands, on Palpatine's and also on his own for his failure. He was called to return home for the sake of brotherhood and would instead find the one who tolls the bell waiting like a vulture.

There would be an accident. A Clone would mistake his orders. Or maybe they would outright lie and claim the renowned Obi-Wan Kenobi had attempted to break free to assassinate the Emperor or Anakin or someone. Anyone. It would hardly matter. He would die and they would use his death to their advantage. Anakin had to know this.

The Holo blinked off. Queen Breha turned to her guests and said softly, "I think we need a break from this for a few days. From all work. There's a spring festival in a village near here for a few days. I think we should go and enjoy ourselves."

"That sounds wonderful," Lyra agreed with a grateful smile at the queen. She gave his hand a gentle shake.

He nodded, trying to pull himself out of his bleak imaginings. "Yes, I think that would be enjoyable, your Majesty." Obi-Wan wished he could sound more enthusiastic. "But the Jedi out there need..."

Breha cut him off, the first time she had never done such a thing. It wasn't unkind or out of disrespect, just deep concern for their well-being. "The Jedi need you to be able to think clearly and able to focus, neither of which you can do if you run yourself mentally ragged. Please, Master Kenobi, heed me in this."

There could be no other response than an assenting nod. He couldn't fight his emotions, the darkness of looming over the galaxy and a friend's desire to see him recharge. "I concede your wisdom. Thank you, Lady Breha."

Lyra ran her thumb beneath his palm softly, giving him a light touch of her support in the Force. He knew if Breha could see how deeply troubled he was then he was quite near being fully ragged as she feared. Lyra would sense it that much more acutely. Padme... He saw her brown eyes on their hands, but had no more tension to give toward being under her scrutiny. _She sees a mirror_ , he thought darkly, letting his gaze follow hers to his own hand. _But I am not Anakin_. He closed his eyes against the reminder, feeling that all too familiar ache burrow deeper into his stomach. _Come home_.

There was no home on Coruscant anymore. No home in Anakin's brotherhood, precious little home left in the Order to which he had given every fiber of his being. All stolen by a Sith Lord who would see to it he had no home in the realm of the living, if he had his way. Was he making a mistake in not going? What if he went? What if he risked all on the slim chance Padme was right, it wasn't his death Anakin sought, but a savior from the puppet master now ruling them all?

The Queen excused herself and Padme followed, leaving the two Jedi alone at the table. Once they were gone Lyra rounded on him, took his face into her hands with tears in her eyes and said, "Obi-Wan, I feel your pain. Your thoughts are so dark and so confused. Tell me how I can help you. I'm so sorry."

Her forehead pressed against his and he let himself bask in her warmth. "What should I do?" he asked her, trying to order his emotions and find a place inside him where Anakin wasn't. She knew him too well. Her trembling was for him, not her own pain. She would know what thoughts tempted him now.

Lyra took his mouth to hers and he sat perfectly still, enjoying the way her expression of love manifested, uninterrupted by his own need. It was tender, beautiful in a way he had never known. When she stopped he felt himself mourning its loss, but knew only a movement would bring rebirth. He contented himself with her hands on his shoulders as she whispered, "Do what your heart tells you."

Six words condemning him, giving him no way out, no excuse to remain safe in her arms. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he drew her close and let his own love manifest for her. "Tell me to remain and I will. Tell me other Jedi need me more, that you need me more, that it will hurt you too much for me to do this."

He knew she would do no such thing. Lyra laughed tearfully at him, kissed him again, and said, "It _will_ hurt and I need you more than life itself, but I love you too much to tell you to stay if it will cause you anguish. The Force made you who you are, made you to make the decisions you need to make." Providence. Such a tricky aspect of philosophy. Even the wisest had little understanding of it, let alone one worn out Jedi Master.

"I need to think," he replied, but the decision within was already made. He would not go tonight, maybe not even tomorrow. He would put it off and search for any reason, any at all, that he should not go to Anakin. Others needed him. She needed him. And he wanted so badly for the universe to give him a moment that he could call his own, wanted reparations for the damage he felt in his soul.

But destiny felt like it was tightening around him, smothering him. No excuse would come and he railed against that, hating his own heart for betraying him to his selfless nature. Because in his heart he knew he couldn't let Anakin down now, not when he needed his master the most. So he would go, risk death and torment, and offer the same summons in reply. Come home. Abandon this darkness, this bitter life as a slave to the Sith. Come home and all is forgiven. Come home and the galaxy will be free, nothing will stop the Light from righting these terrible wrongs.

 _Come home, my brother, my padawan. And I will not fail you again._


	10. To Save a Soul

Sins of the Sons  
by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is Disney's toy.

oOo

He knelt on shaking knees before a master who did not tolerate weakness in the form of laying prostrate after punishment. Anakin could hardly recall the face of Mace Windu when the Sith Lord had unleashed his deadliest weapon—his ability to summon lightening with the Force. He could not recall the shock and pain, but could recall with crystal clarity the noises the great Jedi Master had made, for he himself made those selfsame sounds when he bore the consequences of Palpatine's displeasure.

His breathing came in gasps, but Anakin remained on his knees, unwilling to show a shred of weakness before his master. In fact, he dared to glare from beneath his brows as the Emperor watched him with little more than mild curiosity. Things had changed between them when he had accepted his role as apprentice to the Darkside. Oh, Palpatine prized him still, would give of his knowledge without restraint, but he had oh so reluctantly informed Anakin that it was time to put away the childish training methods of the Jedi and accept that true power came at great cost.

Physical pain and humiliation was one of those costs. And he bore it, welcomed it because it would make him a deadlier weapon, an unstoppable foe, an apprentice that would be worthy to slay his master when the time came. And slay Palpatine he would. The thought of revenge alone was enough to keep him upright.

Palpatine laughed at his resolution, nodded in appreciation of the tool he was forging. "Keep your secrets, Lord Vader. Treasure them and know it doesn't matter. One day you will bring Kenobi before me or you will suffer for your failure. For if you fail, he will always be one step higher, always with his hand on your destiny and you will never exceed him. And you will never exceed me until he is dead, either, my apprentice."

Anakin tightened his jaw at the prophecy, wondering if it was true foresight or merely psychological play. There were two things the great Emperor was extremely skilled at. Precognition and manipulation, and it was often difficult for Anakin to tell which gift he was being assaulted by. He gave no indication of it, however, merely bowed his head and said, "Yes, my master."

Another round of torture had him writhing before his master, before his guards. He cried out in anguish, there was no help for that, but when the lightening stopped he was quick to press his hands against the cold floor and push himself up once again to his knees. Palpatine nodded in satisfaction, pleased by his strength. He motioned towards the door and said, "You may go, my apprentice. We will further our discussion on the nature of true power tomorrow. Think well on your punishment."

"I am in your debt, Master. Thank you," Anakin breathed, getting to his feet and walking with dignity toward the exit. As soon as the door hissed shut he leaned back against it, taking in air and willing his heart to stop racing. Sweat moistened his hair, his body. His fists curled, but not in anguish anymore, but in anger. He knew Palpatine could feel it, knew his master was enjoying the feel of his apprentice's dark desire to return pain for pain.

It was a vicious circle from which there was no escape. Shoving himself off the cool metal, Anakin stalked away from the office intent on one thing—his bed. Receiving his master's anger was never an easy thing, no matter how strong he was growing. Apart from the physical, there was a considerable oppression from the man's dark aura that left him drained. It was like peering behind the veil of the universe and seeing the true horror of which it was made. Certainly nothing like Obi-Wan's displeasure.

A smirk quirked one side of Anakin's mouth as he considered the idea of a reversal of roles between his previous master and his current. Try as he may, he could not imagine Obi-Wan capable of even a remote amount of Palpatine's darkness. On the other hand, once upon a time he had thought Palpatine capable of great good, however that illusion was shattered. Oh, the man had good points and a vast trove of knowledge that Anakin would tap, but he was no longer blind. Palpatine used his power for selfishness—indeed, a key tenet of the Sith—but Anakin believed it was in the interest of the self to control a galaxy of peace. Palpatine wanted order by the might of the fist and that was a part of an ideal grand design, but he cared little of the public's peace of mind. Anakin, on the other hand, viewed public peace as a key toward maintaining control.

Obi-Wan would revile him for such thoughts. He believed the role of the government was to guide the energy of the governed, nothing more. Let them carve their own fate within the boundaries of decency. It was a beautiful concept, one Anakin no longer thought sustainable. Sentient life was too disordered, too chaotic to make their own choices in harmony with the choices of others. In a way, creatures driven solely by base instinct were more intelligent about their role in the universe.

He was heading toward the speeder platforms when the figure of one of the senators came into view. Anakin had been steadily questioning those he knew had been political allies of his wife, trying to find some hint of her current whereabouts. So far he had come up empty. The senator ahead was one of the last he intended to speak with.

Picking up speed, Anakin stepped into stride with Senator Bail Organa, who stopped and gave a polite bow. "Lord Skywalker, is there anything I can do for you?" He was very cool and collected, but Anakin was aware of the man's political leanings. He knew Organa could never truly approve of the Galactic Empire, had even voted against its inception, but so far he seemed obedient to the changes. Anakin felt no great hostility from the man, a credit to his future with the Empire. "You look a little worse for wear, if you don't mind my saying. Are you well?"

Anakin waved him off, said, "Working hard, Senator. Working hard." He attuned his focus to Organa, assessing every nuance of his emotions, his reactions. "Could I have a brief word?"

"Of course," Organa replied easily. The two retreated to a nearby bench to stay out of the way of passing politicians and workers. The Senator of Alderaan faced Anakin, his hands neatly clasped before him. "What can I do for you?" he asked.

Anakin wasted no time with smalltalk. "You're aware that the Senator of Naboo is missing? That she is, in fact, my wife?" The senator nodded gravely. Trying to keep his emotions level, Skywalker went on, "Then you must know I'm heading the investigation into her disappearance. As a member of the Imperial Forces, any disappearances of prominent members of this governing body concerns me. As a husband..." He took a deep breath. "As a husband, her disappearance frightens me in a way I cannot begin to describe."

Compassion kindled in the senator. Anakin felt it in the Force, saw it in his face. "As a husband as well I can sympathize."

"Then you won't mind my asking if you know anything?"

That made Organa pause for a moment. Just a slight hesitation that piqued Anakin's interest. "We were friends and allies. And on top of that I would never sanction forced removal of any politician."

With a spike in frustration, Anakin shook his head. "No, you misunderstand. I wondered if perhaps Padme came to you for sanctuary or confided in you any plans to leave the Senate."

"I was not aware Senator Amidala needed sanctuary," he replied with measured confusion. His dark eyes mirrored concern. "I admit the changes of late have some of us off balance, but she is a level-headed, keen politician who knows how to adapt. Surely she has less to fear for her safety than ever before now that you're in a position to protect her from such malicious forces as those that railed against her before?" He shook his head. "No, Lord Skywalker, I'm afraid I have no information for you."

All politicians who had reached such high status as Senator would be skilled at building a finely crafted reply on the fly and Organa was no different than the other senators to whom Anakin had spoken. It was a marvel to see him fish for information even as he framed it as nothing more than his own opinion. Before, Anakin may not have put much thought into it, but now he could see clearly that Organa was attempting to find out just what sort of reason Padme would need for sanctuary—in other words, what sort of trouble was his friend in?

Whether or not this meant he truly had information or not remained to be seen. He could be assessing the situation on behalf of Padme by her request, could be gathering information to warn his friend in case she did contact him, or could even be assessing whether or not he should distance himself from a senator gone rogue. There were too many variables for one straight answer and inwardly Anakin felt his tension rise. What good did it do to analyze and analyze when it only created more questions? He preferred enemies he could come against in battle, straightforward with no questions asked.

Anakin nodded at Organa's reply and decided not to share any more information. "Thank you, Senator. If she does contact you would you please tell her I'm worried?"

The Senator stood up, his expression somber with an aura to match. He was sorry for the former Jedi, that much Anakin could sense. "Of course. You should rest, Lord Skywalker. The Empire needs you at your best. And I'm sure so does she."

With that the senator excused himself and for a long moment Anakin remained seated, waiting for the hallway to clear, taking advantage of the time to rest his aching body. A break in the passers made him remove his comm unit from his belt and radio Rex, his right-hand as far as the Clones went. "Hello, Rex. I have something I'd like you to check for me in regards to Senator Amidala."

"Yes, sir?"

"I'd like you to do a check on Senator Organa of Alderaan. See what he's been up to, if anything looks suspicious. Bank accounts, assets, ships, everything. And have his communications monitored on top priority."

The Clone on the other side of the communication acquiesced easily. "Of course, sir. Do you suspect he was involved with your wife's disappearance? Anything solid I can look at in particular?"

Anakin reflexively shook his head even though the Clone couldn't see him. "No, not really. Only the knowledge that they've spent time together."

"Close friends, sir?" he asked without innuendo, but Anakin could supply his own innuendo without help.

His fingers tightened around the comm unit as he said darkly, "She'd better hope not."

"Sir?" Rex sounded surprised at his tone, wary now. Anakin had a feeling he would be watching his words a little more closely from now on.

Forcing himself to relax, he brushed it aside. It was a foolish thought. "Forget I said anything. Just do as I command."

"Of course, sir. Rex out."

Closing the line, Anakin rose to his feet and stalked out of the Senate building, intent on returning home—the apartment where he had spent his happiest moments in life with the woman he loved. His marriage wasn't exactly common knowledge, but he made no strides to keep it secret anymore. After the apartment had been thoroughly explored he had claimed it for his own and spent his nights in their bed, chained to memories. Palpatine disapproved, but it was one thing Anakin was not willing to give up.

Not for anyone.

oOo

The ladies sat together upon a blanket that had been spread for them upon the queen's arrival to the outdoor spring festival, beneath a silken tent to keep the sun at bay. Not that Queen Breha was aloof from her people, no. In fact she was very engaged with them, speaking with those that would have her ear or offer her compliments. Assorted foods had been brought and they had a supply of wine to pass the time. Outside the tent there were various games to play, cultural activities and dancing. It was, altogether, a merry event. Alderaan was a truly magical place that could soothe even the most trying of worries.

True to their word, neither of the Jedi had done what anyone could term 'work activities', instead allowing her wish to direct them into a state of serenity that concealed the black deeds being done in the universe at large. It was refreshing to simply be, without expectation, without the heaviness of hard choices and dark thoughts. Lyra was reclined on the blanket in a very un-Jedi-like manner, arms crossed over her abdomen as she gazed from underneath the tent at the wind ruffling leaves in a tree. Obi-Wan was out among the people. She could sense his content as he observed the festival and his peace gave her peace. It would be short-lived, she knew. The choice he was trying to solidify in his mind was still there, still waiting to weigh him down later, but for now he had banished it from his thoughts.

Beside her, sipping sparkling juice, Padme smiled. "I think we've corrupted the Jedi," she remarked to Breha, who laughed softly. The Senator grinned at Lyra's lazy expression. "Alderaan agrees with you?"

"Oh, definitely," the Jedi replied, crossing her ankles beneath her dress. "I'm not sure this is exactly what Yoda had in mind for us. Someday a mission's going to take us by surprise and we'll be too lethargic to operate."

Breha looked out among her people proudly. Unable to have children herself, she had made her people her progeny and it showed in her love for them and they for her. Her eyes twinkled as a fire was lit; dusk was nearing. "We'll have to get you out from under this tent and into one of the games."

Padme let out a mock-gasp. "Jedi at play? Who ever heard of such a thing?"

 _Ah, but Jedi did play_ , Lyra thought with a pang of mourning as her memories sailed over young padawans testing their saber skills, Master Yoda making faces at a toddling young arrival at the creche. Even the adults played, in their own fashion. One in particular, when you caught him at it. "I'm sure Obi-Wan's playing enough for both of us."

"Where did he go?" Padme asked, taking some cheese and a cracker that was offered by a smiling old woman who wandered in and back out like the breeze.

Lyra swallowed, her muscles tightened briefly. "I think he's just out enjoying the contentment all around him." Saying goodbye, in case he never gets another chance. "Probably eating too much."

The very pregnant senator bit into another cracker. "I can't say I blame him."

At that point an important looking man wandered by the tent and asked Breha to come greet his wife. The queen seemed happy to oblige and with a promise of her return, disappeared into the festival. Lyra sat up, no longer at complete ease. Her companion wasn't either. Taking another drink of her juice, not directly meeting her eyes, Padme said, "You care for each other very much."

A wind brushed Lyra's hair across her face as she gazed into the nearby fire. "Yes." She had wondered when the senator would have the courage to broach the subject. She had sensed Padme's attention on her increasing these past few days and could attribute it to nothing else.

Padme finally looked at her Jedi companion, prompting Lyra to meet her concerned gaze. "Are you together? Breaking the Code?" Tension suffused Lyra. How could she reply without causing Padme anger or pain? Her silence was enough to tell the senator all she needed to know. There was no anger in her gaze, but she was troubled. "It's not my place to say anything, but through Anakin I came to know Obi-Wan. I care for him as a friend. I would hate to see him falter."

"I know," Lyra replied softly. She drew her arms together in the chill of early evening, trying to think her way through her answer, to find the words that would put Padme at ease. It was the first among many answers they would have to give to others who did not understand or would worry. "We have talked about the reasons attachment is forbidden and we have come to an understanding for each situation. That is by no means perfect protection. We both realize this. But it's..."

When she trailed off, Padme finished for her. "Complicated. I know that firsthand." She exhaled a breath and looked far away—an expression she used when thinking of her husband. "I know Obi-Wan is not like Anakin. Not every situation is the same. I don't even fully understand what happened with Anakin."

The senator was examining her fingers absently, her aura clenched in pain. Moved, Lyra reached out and put her hand on Padme's shoulder to comfort her. "You should know something." Dark eyes met shining ones. They were wet and Lyra squeezed her shoulder. "Obi-Wan is going to go to him."

Padme's tears fell. She wiped them hastily, shook her head at Lyra. "No. It's too dangerous. You can't let him."

"I can't stop him." Nor would she, if it was his desire to go. It would be asking him to deny his own nature. "He wants to try and talk to Anakin. He wants to try to save him."

Covering her mouth, Padme was silent for a long moment, shaking her head in fear at the idea. Every bit of terror the senator felt Lyra felt it tenfold. Finally, lightly touching the corners of her eyes, Padme composed herself and said, "If anyone could it would be him. Anakin loves him, no matter what he's done or how he's acted. I know he does. But it could be a trap. Saying that about my own husband is more painful than you can know, but none of us can deny the possibility. I never thought half of what I saw on that recording was possible, but..." She couldn't go on, but instead rested put her hand over Lyra's in a gesture of thanks.

There was only one thing she could say to Padme's truth. "Obi-Wan feels Anakin's heart and soul are worth the risk." Lyra refilled the senator's glass for her, tried to lighten the somber mood with, "And he might just escape the trap if there is one. He _is_ a Jedi Master."

"Who's a Jedi Master?" his light voice asked from the side. Obi-Wan had sensed the gravity of their discussion, had waited to insert himself when he felt their emotions level. He sank down onto the blanket with a tray of assorted sweets and cheeses. "I know you certainly couldn't be referring to me. I've decided to become a fat, pampered nobleman." He held up the tray for the two women, simultaneously grabbed a glass of wine a servant offered.

"Maybe one of those things, anyways," Lyra remarked, taking a few cookies.

Padme looked at Obi-Wan very seriously, unwilling to be diverted. "Coruscant is dangerous. I want Anakin to abandon this madness more than anything else. I miss him, the _good_ him. But I wouldn't feel right if I didn't urge you to reconsider your choice to go to him. The Jedi who survived the killing order need you."

He gave Lyra a pointed look, but said nothing in rebuke. "I have reconsidered several times," he replied gently, his heart in his voice. "But what kind of master would I be if I didn't try? I failed to teach him what he needed to know to pass this trial. If he hadn't asked I come to him directly, in private, I might not be making this choice, but he did and I...I take it as a sign that maybe part of him wants to be saved. Do you understand?"

The senator nodded, not comforted by any means, but in understanding of his resolution. "Then my heart goes with you. Be careful, Obi-Wan. And come back to us."

"That's the plan." His voice was easy, but his emotions still mired in doubt. He took a drink of his wine, again watching the crowd in their joyful celebration of rebirth and beauty on their world. For a while the three of them sat beneath the tent watching as the firelight grew more intense as the night draped across the sky. They were content to speak of smaller, less emotionally charged things, and a sense of serenity returned.

Then Obi-Wan stood and offered his hand to Lyra, helping her up as he said, "Walk with me. If you would excuse us, Padme?"

Padme nodded and Obi-Wan directed Lyra into a lazy walk among the people, at some point taking her hand in his as they explored. Was this his goodbye to her? Would he leave tonight? Tomorrow morning? Her heart clenched at the thought of it, but she said not a word that would make him change his mind. Instead she savored every second as the gift that it was.

At the end of one of the rows there was a flower stand where they stopped. With a playful smile he said, "I think you need something for your hair." Lyra gave him an odd look, but smiled as he made a show of selecting just the right one. When he finally felt he had made the right choice, he thumbed a credit transfer and turned to present it for her inspection.

Looking at the soft thing in his hands, Lyra felt herself go a little breathless. She reached up and touched it, then let her fingers slide off the petals onto his warm skin. There was a gravity about him that confirmed what she had suspected all evening. All he had to do was speak to confirm it.

With a distracted smile, Obi-Wan fixed the flower behind her ear and stood back to admire his handiwork. His sky-colored eyes were very wistful and her heart muscles felt clenched. "I've decided to go tomorrow." He huffed a breath as his gaze scanned the crowd. "I'm learning the dangers of attachment. I don't want to leave you. These past few weeks..."

"Shh," she urged, pressing a hand to his chest gently. "Do what you must, Obi-Wan. Don't forget, I care for Anakin as well. I would like to see him return to the Lightside."

Her acquiescence moved him. She could sense his gratitude as he wrapped her into his arms, rubbing the side of his face against hers. "Thank you. Thank you for supporting me."

"I want to go back to the estate," she whispered against his hair.

He nodded, his desire kindled by her gentle urging, and again took her hand. Neither the queen nor senator remarked on the flower in Lyra's hair when they returned, but agreed to call it a night and returned with them to the mountain retreat. The night was peaceful, the stars gentle watchers in the skies that kept wanderers safe whether they roamed back to royal mansions or humble abodes in the countryside. Night birds lulled the region as they readied for bed. It was perfect, idyllic. It would stay with Lyra forever, hopefully passing to the descendants who gained her memories and teaching them the power of love, selflessness and the Lightside of the Force.

But it was also bittersweet. That night the two Jedi reveled in the forbidden, in making love as two dedicated to no other. In the morning he said goodbye to her for the sake of his padawan's soul.

oOo

Thanks for reading!


	11. Birth and Death

Sins of the Sons

by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

oOo

What Obi-Wan didn't know was that across the galaxy Anakin Skywalker was thinking of him as well. The young former Jedi draped in black stood before a wall laden with many beautifully carved doors, each only about a square foot in size. Deep beneath the Jedi Temple where the oldest parts lay hidden from the harsh hustle and bustle above, this room was sacred, a place for reflection.

Beyond shadows and silence, twisting through trees of stone that stood as pillars cradling the Temple, there wound a path through the forgotten halls to a somber end. Where he once stood with his master now Anakin stood alone within the Gallery of the Fallen, his hooded gaze focused upon the name carved before him.

 _Qui-Gon Jinn_.

Jedi were discouraged from speaking to the dead. This place wasn't meant for holding on to the past, but to honor those who were now a part of the great tides of the universe. Obi-Wan had never spoken to his fallen master here and following his master's example, neither had Anakin. Which was why his voice seemed sinful, out of place here where voices were all but forbidden.

"I killed a young padawan today."

Of all the things he could say, why this? Why confess his sins to the dead? It made no sense to him, but the words had come unbidden, uncontrollable. He had done his duty to the Empire, a duty he felt was one of the few things he had left in his life to live for. Why confess, when he believed in that duty? Why, when he knew that people died in the war for the greater good? The barely of age girl was blessed now, part of the tide, luminous and free from the chains of mortal living. He had given her the gift of being stripped from the darkness that hunted for her.

Why confess, when there would be no absolution?

She had been found in hiding in the depths of Coruscant, brought before him and he had given her the Empire's due process for Jedi. Now she lay in an unmarked grave when she should be here, but what did it matter when this flesh was but crude matter, as Yoda would say? The only thing that marked her passing was a confession no one would ever hear.

He stood with wet eyes, head bowed away from the grave now, his flesh hand balled as he remembered her eyes pleading with him. Anakin did not try to explain to the dead why he had done what he had, did not allow himself to believe justification was necessary, banished fantasies that Qui-Gon had left him on Tatooine, safe from the darkness that enveloped him.

He wondered, why then, did he weep? He knew not from where these tears sprung. Or maybe he did. Maybe he just would not allow himself to accept the realization that he was falling apart inside. He knit his brow in refusal, crossed his arms and paced before the grave, occasionally turning a glare. No, he was not falling apart. He was in the right. The Jedi had become corrupted by time, forgetting the Living Force in their lust for power. Whatever Palpatine was doing wrong, he was right about that. And Anakin would finish the work he had started the correct way. He only needed time.

And strength. He needed strength to stand in the face of evil, to walk among it now that he had chosen, to wait for the moment when all things would tie together. _Just give me time_ , he thought to that ghost of Qui-Gon inside him. _Give me the strength_. His mind whispered one other thing, a thing he refused to actively allow himself to plead.

 _Forgive me_.

There upon the face of the small chamber door where within the ashes lay, there was a button. If one pressed it a holographic representation of the Jedi the chamber held would appear alongside various statistics and deeds. He had seen it once before, one single time, for that was all Obi-Wan could stand to look into the face of his beloved master and friend. Anakin did not press that button now.

But there was a sudden flicker in the air, a dimming of the lights. He backed away from the chamber and looked around, wondering if the power was failing. Another flash and a brief sensation of being watched. A third flash and the hologram took full form, eyes looking into Anakin's wet face, but all too briefly.

He stood frozen, watching as the hologram tried to take form again. Formless, fuzzy blue undulated briefly before him and he could swear he heard his name amidst the static. His name spoken in that familiar voice. The man who had saved him from slavery.

Anakin rushed forward and pressed the button. As it should, Qui-Gon's hologram materialized before him. It sputtered like a broken feed; its eyes watched him without intelligence and it did not speak. Without being conscious of his own movements Anakin found himself reaching out to a representation that could not reach back.

His comm unit sounded, breaking the spell that held him. "Skywalker," he said, forcing composure into his tone."

"Rex here. Sir, we've found some evidence that your wife's been transported off planet, quite probably on Organa's credits. His finances lead to a lower Coruscant service firm where we found records of a high security extraction of a target matching Senator Amidala's description. It doesn't directly say who funded it, but it looks suspicious enough. Should we bring Organa in?"

For a moment Anakin considered it, then decided to play it cool right now. "No. Not now. Find out where the extraction took her and ready my ship. We might pay a little visit to Alderaan."

"Yes, my Lord. Rex out." The Clone disconnected then, leaving the Supreme Commander to take a deep breath. He looked once more at the hologram and hardened himself to the reality that to accomplish what he wanted, he was going to have to get his hands dirty. Surely Qui-Gon Jinn of all Jedi would understand that.

Hitting the button, he shut off the holographic feed, but as he walked away a chill spread through him. He could swear those eyes had looked into him with profound sadness just before it flickered off. It could only have been an illusion.

oOo

Within days of Obi-Wan's departure Lyra found herself distracted by a senator in labor. It helped her cope with being apart from him, from his necessary radio silence that had grated on her. Being her first baby, Padme's labor was hard and looked poised to take hours. She laid back in the infirmary within the royal palace, the queen and Jedi in attendance.

Lyra watched her wince as another contraction took hold. Her memories were filled with the experiences of other women who had felt the same and so she could sympathize. To try and keep Padme from centering on her pain, the Jedi asked, "Do you you have any names picked?"

Letting out a shuddering breath, Padme nodded and gratefully accepted a wet rag at her forehead from Breha. "If it's a girl, Leia, after my grandmother." She leaned back against her pillow and savored the moment of rest. "My grandmother was a wonderful woman. Strong, kind. She would read me stories when I was a child, hold me on her lap and rock with me as we watched the sunset. I wish she could be here. I wish my mother could be here with me." Her eyes were soft and sad as she said it.

Breha brushed her hair back gently. "You don't know the sex of the child?" she asked curiously.

Padme shook her head and reached for a glass of water nearby. She looked serene in the way an expecting mother did, knowing her greatest gift was about to arrive, but so very tired. "It's tradition on Naboo. We never let our physicians tell us anything about the baby, other than that it's healthy, of course. That way it's a surprise. Oh!" Her brow narrowed as another contraction struck. Closing her dark eyes, she concentrated on breathing and squeezed Lyra's hand until the pain began to fade. Leaning back again, she continued. "If it's a boy, I'm going to name it Luke. It was Anakin's uncle's name. They never met, but his mom told him enough stories to leave an impression. He apparently died trying to free them. I think...I think Anakin would have liked that."

Giving the senator a sisterly kiss on the forehead, Breha said, "That's a wonderful name. Both are. Tributes to the best kind of people this universe has to offer."

"Thank you, Breha," Padme whispered, bracing with another pain. Again, she squeezed Lyra's hand and looked up gratefully when it was over. "You too. I'm happy to have you here, knowing what a friend you were to Anakin."

Lyra smiled and would have said something, but a servant entered into the infirmary quickly and bowed to his queen. "Majesty, your husband is on a communication signal. He says it's urgent he speak with you immediately."

The queen left with the servant after giving Padme a reassuring touch on the shoulder and promising to return as quickly as she could. Her face was schooled and calm, but Lyra could feel worry begin to gnaw at her as she swept from the room. Padme watched her go and when the door closed, she said, "You know, Anakin told me he was having visions of me dying in childbirth."

A chill went through Lyra, not because she believed it would happen but because of the context of the confession. Had Padme been hiding this fear since the beginning of her labor? Lyra shook her head at the young senator and looked at her with firm conviction. "You are not going to die in childbirth, Padme. Things like that just don't happen in the Royal Palace of Alderaan."

Padme laughed at that lightly. "I told Anakin something similar about Coruscant. For that matter, nor on Naboo." She bit her bottom lip and leaned forward into another contraction. They were coming closer together now. The baby would arrive soon. When she fell back, she said, "He wouldn't believe me. He was afraid. He had the same kind of visions about his mother."

Obi-Wan had known his padawan was having nightmares about his mother and that not long after his apprentice had run away to Tatooine with the very woman on the gurney before her. The missing piece was what had happened there. "And what became of his mother?" Lyra asked, trying not to let herself show disquiet.

The answer was all wrong and explained so much. "She died in his arms on Tatooine."

Thinking very carefully, Lyra replied in neutral tones, "Precognition is not a perfect science. So many factors can affect the strings of fate we glimpse, if even those strings are part of our destiny to begin with. Because he saw it does not mean it will happen. You have access to state of the art technology to prevent what he feared would come to pass. Who knows, but that agents of evil planted those seeds in his heart? He was prey to Palpatine, prey to a darkness far older when one considers what happened on Dromund Kaas."

"That horrible world of the Sith?" Padme breathed, wiping the sweat from her brow. "Anakin told me he saw visions there. Visions of evil, but he never told me exactly what. You were there, weren't you?"

Lyra nodded, wishing that she hadn't been. To think of that world and what it had planted in her thoughts and those of Obi-Wan and Anakin's was a weight she did not wish to bear again. "Obi-Wan and I saw visions as well. The creature told him Anakin would fall to the Darkside, but he thought it was a lie. When Anakin became closer to him he thought if there had once been truth to the visions, now it was gone, evaded by his choice to trust his padawan." She gave Padme a reassuring pet. "My point is not that visions are true. Mine weren't and could never have been. Sith lie and if a vision like that could be used to weaken him..."

Padme finished for her, "Then no holds barred." She groaned as another contraction hit. When she could finally relax she asked the question Lyra had hoped she would not. "What did you see?"

A knot formed in her abdomen at the horror of what she had been shown. She didn't want to say, but knew if she kept silent it would be a hold over her and she would give that creature of evil no power to use against her. "I saw myself abused and tormented, by whom I do not know. But it wore Qui-Gon Jinn's face." The violence in those eyes had filled her with loathing, for it was a perversion of the great and kind man that he was.

Another contraction hailed the queen's return. She stopped at the door and motioned Lyra to come to her, giving Padme a soft smile. "We'll be right back, dear. Don't worry."

In the hall Breha's inward anxiety rose to the surface of her face. "Anakin Skywalker is even now readying to make his way to Alderaan. We don't know why, but somehow he suspects Bail of being a part of Padme's disappearance. We have to get her off this world as soon as possible."

A wave of disbelief coursed through Lyra. Her thoughts raced for an answer. "I can take her to my home world. It's little known. I don't believe Anakin is aware of it." Anakin would not be there when Obi-Wan arrived on Coruscant. What did this portend? Was it indeed a trap? Was it a lucky coincidence or a terrible stroke of fate? There were too many possibilities. "Can we afford to wait?" Padme's prophecy rang through her like a warning bell.

Breha nodded and Lyra felt some of her tension drain. "Come. We'll tell her after she gives birth, of course. There's no use worrying her now."

"Of course."

When they reentered the birthing room Padme was watching their approach with concern in her dark eyes. "What's wrong?"

Adopting her naturally calm demeanor, Breha grasped her shoulder gently. "Nothing you need to worry about right now. We have time."

The senator turned to Lyra. "It isn't Obi-Wan?"

"No, he's fine." She forced herself to smile and felt Padme relax a little. "Let's concentrate on the little one, hmm?"

Another contraction stopped Padme from ruminating any further. A few contractions later a sensory scanner beeped, announcing full dilation and the physician was in almost immediately. Padme did not die in childbirth that day, but a surprise was on the horizon for her at the conclusion of the birth. What she had thought was one was two, a boy and a girl, an extra blessing that banished her grief. At least for a little while.

oOo

He used a door that no one knew of, save the Jedi Council. To even access it one would have to traipse the jungle of hallways and forgotten paths miles below the surface of the Temple. It was an entrance he knew Anakin was not aware of, not unless they had by now unraveled the Temple's every secret, and even then he wondered. For the Temple had many parts and some were not as young as what met the eye above. It held a myriad of secrets that few knew the complete story of.

Hugging the Sacred Spire within the center of the Temple was a staircase lit now only by the light of a single azure lightsaber belonging to Obi-Wan Kenobi. The ebb of its energy was not the only music to which he ascended. He could hear drops of water fall from and around the mountain peak around which the Temple had been build, could hear his own footsteps echo as he traveled.

When he reached the level where the Gallery was he stopped, shutting down his weapon so he could remain unseen. Stretching out his senses revealed Clones dotted here and there along the upper levels, boredly carrying out the guarding of a dead building. There was no sense of Anakin presently, but he could feel that his apprentice had been here recently.

Taking a breath, he stepped into the entrance of the sleeping Gallery and braced himself to accept his fate.

The Gallery of the Fallen was a cold place. Very little energy was expended on a large room where few seldom came. Sensing his motion lights flickered on, but even they were subdued as if afraid to awaken the denizens therein. He wound his way among various niches in which the ashes of the masters of the past were kept.

Among the more recently occupied rooms he found what he was looking for. He had not been here in at least a decade, but Obi-Wan's eyes instinctively moved to the correct space, first laying on the name of his former master. He drew a deep breath and gazed at it for a long time, surprised by the emotions that still assailed him after all this time.

Anakin was not here. That much was obvious. But there was written by knife into the delicate stone surface of the hatch behind which his master's ashes lay a cryptic message. A series of numbers and letters, too long to be a communication channel. If not that, then what?

Obi-Wan stared at it, committed it to memory using Jedi techniques that would prevent it from fading from his mind's eye. And even when it was solid within he remained still, shifting his thoughts, no longer seeing the message but seeing now his master's face as he allowed himself to relive the past. He could almost sense Qui-Gon here, could almost fool himself into believing he was young again, teasing his master about pathetic lifeforms. He should have listened closer about the Living Force. He should have let it into his heart sooner.

"I miss you," he whispered, speaking to his dead master for the first time in what seemed an eternity.

And then something strange happened. He knew at the press of a button he could see his master's face once again, but his arms were folded across his abdomen. Yet the air moved, turned holographic blue for an instant. He jumped, startled, and looked over the wall of tiny somber doors. A static noise crackled and Obi-Wan found himself perplexed at first, then chilled when he heard his name.

It was fuzzy like a failing communication, but with another flicker of blue it became stronger and hauntingly familiar. _Obi-Wan...et...t..!_

Was he hallucinating? This could not be happening. He darted his senses here and there, looking for the source of this vile joke, but there was not a soul around. And what was more he could feel Qui-Gon, could sense that familiar bond awaken, if only slightly. But Qui-Gon was gone and no one could speak from beyond the grave. Could they?

"Master?" he said tentatively, almost afraid for his own sanity.

The hologram flickered, but couldn't sustain itself. The voice, however, grew clearer. _Get out!_ It only took a moment for him to realize what it said, but by then it was too late. A mechanical whir at the right made Obi-Wan whip around. A cold lens glared back from a position equal to his height, but without benefit of a body to support it. A probe droid. From beneath the lens a small compartment opened to reveal a small weapon barrel from which a toxic dart flew at him.

Obi-Wan dodged it deftly, throwing himself back, and simultaneously ignited his lightsaber. But the droid was already back on him, firing another dart, then another. The fourth buried itself into his shoulder, causing him to groan as he ripped it out as quickly as he could. He could already feel a stinging sensation spread from the tiny wound.

Anxious to keep from taking any more darts, Obi-Wan ducked and rolled beneath the droid and came up behind it, driving his blade forward. The droid hit the floor with a clatter, but he knew only a fool would think the battle over. He could sense the Clones above him already alerted, their attention fixed at a single point of convergence at his feet.

A wave of dizziness passed through him, but he pushed himself back through the dark halls toward the stairway hidden in shadows. He could hear footfalls starting to flood the spaces outside the Gallery, voices that barked orders to leave no stone unturned. Holding his shoulder, Obi-Wan started to descend the steps and had to stop when they started to spin. His footing lost its surety and he fell back, sliding down about ten feet before catching himself. He was never going to make it down the full flight, but he had to try.

Easing himself down slowly, he managed another thirty feet or so before finding a crevasse in the spire in which he could fit. It was a hard gamble. If they found the stairs they could find him and his only recourse then would be the bottleneck offered by the narrow opening. But it was better than breaking his neck falling down the steps.

Crawling into the stone pocket, Obi-Wan found his gamble offered more than a slim crack in which he could hide. It was as a path into a larger area. Inside he found an ancient meditation chamber, its fountain dry and the scant furniture barely more than bones of an age passed. Beyond was another pass that led to Force knew where, but he was losing steam.

Obi-Wan dragged himself through the shadows toward the back of the room where the skeletal remains of a dead bush stuck up out of the ground. Behind this he collapsed and passed out, his last thoughts on the voice of his master.

oOo

Thanks for reading! :) Hope everyone had a good holiday (or just regular day, if that be the case). :D


	12. Souls Lost

Sins of the Sons

by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

oOo

Never had Lyra seen such grief carried in so diminutive and pale a form as that of Senator Amidala. In the darkness of the wee hours of the morning she sat beside a window, cradling her girl child to her breast as Leia cried. Babies without benefit of the Force could often pick up on clues to their mother's moods. A child with Force mediated empathy could sense things like pain and fear. "Shh," Padme urged the child, giving her a soft kiss on her tiny cheek.

In Lyra's arms was the boy, squirming at the noise and emotions swirling around him, but quiet for now. She kept him on a steady bounce against her leg, keeping him steady with her arms and whispering the occasional reassurance. Near the bed Breha was packing a light bag for Padme. She gazed sadly after her friend and said, "Your decision is for the best. If he is hunting you then the children are better off hidden. I've had all references to the birth erased from the database. The babies will be separated, taken across Alderaan into the homes of my very own family. You will not have to worry for their safety."

A tear streamed down Padme's cheek as she nodded, still watching Leia with her sad eyes. "I know. It just feels so vastly unfair. I haven't even had a day with them."

Luke began to cry, inconsolable to the Jedi that held him. Lyra lifted him closer and tried to give him the security of her warmth, but he was too aware of the heavy sorrow in the room. It _was_ unfair, so very unfair. Again Lyra considered arguing that they be brought along, but she knew Padme would not stand for it, for if Anakin did find their trail she would not want him to find her babies at the end of it.

Breha closed the bag and moved to Padme's side, taking Leia so that the senator could say her goodbyes to her son. As Lyra handed off the baby, Breha said, "When he leaves Alderaan unsatisfied, when we've made sure everything is safe, then you'll come back and be with them."

"Every minute," Padme whispered to Luke, nuzzling his soft hair. She held him like a panicked creature cornered, unwilling to give up its young. Watching her filled Lyra with a heaviness she could barely stave off with training. Luke wailed uncontrollably and in Breha's arms, Leia hiccuped, her voice too tired to go on. It was enough to make the Jedi weep, but for the sake of her charge she held her emotions in check.

When the dreaded moment of departure arrived Padme was put on a repulsor-chair because she was still too weak to tire herself walking. They boarded a small public transport that would take them to Lothal, a run-down planet in the outer rim where they would wait for another transport to Xhal. They were registered as family to a relatively obscure Alderaanian noble that had died a few years back, leaving no heir. With the proper payments and connections, dates of purchase were falsified and their paper trail concealed enough to get them to Lothal. When they reached Xhal they would have, hopefully, all but disappeared from the galaxy.

The accommodations on the transport were tight and scant. The Jedi and the senator had to share a small room with two tightly packed bunks where Padme would spend her time recuperating from the birth. She wore loose clothing that had been padded to make her pass as still with child, a ruse that would hopefully serve to protect Luke and Leia should anyone recognize her and report her whereabouts.

After surviving cramped quarters and bland food they finally reached Lothal City on a wet, gray day. Their second transport would be a few days away, so they checked into a small hotel where they could while away the hours unobtrusively. It was on the last day Lyra's danger senses started tingling. She could feel a cold malevolence in the Force, something hunting them from nearby. It didn't feel like Anakin was close, though, which made her worry.

"What is it?" Padme asked, noticing her pensiveness. She had just finished packing and stood there by the bed, ready to take her pack in hand.

Lyra was still scanning the streets with the Force, shook her head with a faraway expression. "I don't like what I'm feeling. Be extra mindful of our surroundings as we walk."

"Is it Anakin?" There was fear there, but also a great wistfulness that the Jedi couldn't blame her for.

Hefting her bag, Lyra shook her head. When they stepped out into the open there was a change in the air, as if eyes were upon them. She moved her hand to the blaster Breha had armed her with and motioned Padme to do the same. Her lightsaber was within reach, but would only be used as a last resort to keep her identity as a Jedi secret.

The attack came from a dark alley off the main street. Lothal wasn't a shining example in the way of law enforcement these days, so when a few blaster shots came out of the shadows there were no guards nearby. The few passers there acted in the interest of self-preservation, not justice, leaving Lyra and the weakened senator to their own devices.

The first few shots Lyra dodged, pulling Padme to the side with her. One hit the ground at their feet and she cursed at not being able to use her lightsaber as a blocking tool. In the alley a figure stood half-concealed in the shadows of the buildings, but Lyra could see he was wearing armor from head to toe—green and white, of Mandalorian make.

A second volley came from another alley nearby. She couldn't see this attacker, but could pinpoint his location by feel. Taking aim, she shot her blaster, even as Padme took on the Mandalorian, but they were the vulnerable ones, standing in the open. Grasping Padme by the arm, Lyra pulled her toward another street as the citizens of Lothal flattened against the walls of various buildings.

Turning down another avenue brought them face to face with the Mandalorian, who had cut them off and was standing in the open. Lyra could see he was wearing a jetpack that would allow him to stay on their heels with a minimum of danger. She fired her blaster and hit him dead center of the chest, but his armor stood firm against the assault and she knew she was going to have to use her own weapon.

They cut into an alley as she forsook the blaster and drew her blade, igniting it as they ran. Backing Padme against a wall behind her to shield her, Lyra whirled to face the Mandalorian but instead saw his companion—a male human—bearing down on them, firing blaster shots. Green met red in a light show of blocked attempts and Lyra managed to send a blaster bolt careening back toward its master, damaging his hip. He fell, but kept firing and Lyra flipped to dodge a flurry of shots, then landed at his side and ran him through.

An empty metallic noise filled the silence. Padme had dived behind a large garbage receptacle to avoid the blaster fire of the Mandalorian. He took a few shots at Lyra, then fired his jet when she raised her blaster in a two-handed duo of gun and blade. He made it out of range of her shots and landed on a nearby ventilation pipe.

He took aim again, but this time not on the Jedi. Her danger senses coming to a head, Lyra saw the fatal shot as it hit the air and threw herself in front of Padme, but she wasn't fast enough. The senator took it directly to the chest and fell back with a barely audible gasp of surprise. On the ground, Lyra turned to look at him with rage in her eyes.

But he was done with the battle. Giving her a nod, he fired his jet and disappeared onto the rooftops. Turning back to Padme, Lyra moaned, "It's okay," as she took in the sight of the wound. It was a lie and she knew it, but what else could she say?

Lashes fluttering and hand shaking, Padme reached for her and choked out, "My babies?" Her fingers clasped Lyra's sleeve weakly and tears were filling her dark eyes. "Please?" The woman knew she was dying. She used her last few breaths to beg for lives other than her own.

Her own face flooding with wetness, Lyra cupped Padme's cheek and nodded, her other hand gently petting her shoulder as if it could possibly comfort the dying woman. "They'll be fine," she breathed, then wiped desperately at her burning eyes so she could see again.

Padme was starting to close her eyes slowly and it seemed absurdly grotesque to the Jedi that these things could happen. When she could finally open them no more, the small Senator of Naboo whimpered one word, another plea for another life far away. "Anakin."

Her hand dropped from Lyra's arm and the Jedi bent over her, forsaking her training and letting herself cry unabashedly for every grief she had suffered since that dreadful day the Jedi had been destroyed and an Empire had been born. For a long time she lay there, shaking with her cries, unable to bear the burden of any other facet of the universe around her. Minutes dragged by as she wept, then she could sense two forms approach. When she looked up anger flashed through her. Here were the guards, much too late to be of help.

One was young, a new recruit by the look of it. The older one had shoulder length, messy blond hair and a scruffy chin. He let out an expansive sigh when he saw the fallen senator. "Damn it all," he cursed, then turned his blue eyes on the Jedi. "We were about five blocks over putting a stop to a brawl when someone informed us two ladies were under attack." He noticed the body on the other side of Lyra and said, "Our perp?"

Unable to say anything, not trusting herself to keep her emotions in check, Lyra simply nodded and he shoved the eager boy out of his way to go look at the body himself. After a quick eyeballing, the elder guard removed his blaster and shot the body, right where Lyra had left a gaping lightsaber wound. His younger friend gave him an odd look as his boss returned, shrugging with, "Best to make sure. Not like he's gonna mind. Go get a cleanup crew and have it incinerated." The boy obediently disappeared back down the alley.

He cocked an eyebrow as he looked back down on Lyra. His mode of speaking was deceptively easygoing. "Name's Hitch. Got a planet nearby. Zar or Zod or somethin' like that. You look like one of them types. 'M I right?"

A wave of confusion swept through her. Obviously, the man was aware being a Jedi was a death sentence and was willing to cover for her, but why? Was it because of her heritage? "Yes," she replied, deciding to offer that and no more, waiting to see how things played out.

He scratched his fuzzy cheek and nodded thoughtfully. "Well, we got deals with your people. Magistrate ain't gonna like it if those deals get interrupted, if you follow me. I think we can get you in a private transport on the magistrate's credit and keep this quiet, along with a few other things. Ya think? Something big enough to transport you and your friend wherever you want, long as it ain't here?"

One question barred her from agreeing. "Why?"

He grinned cynically. "Trouble's money, maybe even worth a life or several." Hitch held out his hand in mock chivalry to help her stand. "Especially when you deal with shiny-eyed people, so I've learned."

Taking it, Lyra nodded her agreement. "I think we have an arrangement."

Hitch's smile became genuine at that point. He lifted his comm link and asked for the local coroner, then gave the Jedi a look of compassion that belied his rough exterior. "Sorry 'bout your friend. We just can't cover everything with so few of us. Lothal isn't a nice place anymore."

A fresh moisture arose in Lyra's eyes, but she didn't bother to wipe them away. No place was nice anymore.

oOo

He had been nervous for two days straight and he couldn't pinpoint why. Alderaan was beautiful, a paradise among worlds, just like Naboo. The queen was quiet with him, but gracious enough. He had the finest suite in the Royal Palace. But it was nothing to him. All his focus was on a single goal. Finding his wife.

The story was this. Yes, Padme had come to Alderaan after a communique begging for aid came from Coruscant. Because of her longstanding friendship with the Organa family, Queen Breha had taken her in without hesitation, sending for her using her friend husband's funds, even when the Senator of Naboo would not answer as to why she needed to travel incognito. Breha trusted Padme and knew if her friend deemed it wiser to remain silent, then it was worth allowing for. Thus she did not press the issue and had no idea that anyone official was looking for the young Senator of Naboo. She had not even informed her of the transfer on Padme's request. Anakin had argued this point suspiciously, had finally been brought up short when she replied, "I see no point in continuing this debate, when there is little I can do in the face of your unswerving conviction. Believe what you must." She had given him a neat story that explained everything, even without him prompting her with what he knew.

After the argument, he apologized. Not out of any true sense of remorse for offense, but because he required information and would have as few barriers between he and it as possible. The story continued with Padme leaving the planet a few weeks prior, with no word on how she was traveling or where she was going. She and her soon-to-be-born child had left in good health one morning, as unannounced as when she came.

The story was plausible. It would not be out of character for his wife to minimize the danger her presence put her friends in. If she could avoid imposition at all, even if it increased her own danger, she would. Which made him wonder what exactly was she running from? What did she know that made her that afraid to face him? His list of sins wasn't exactly small, lately, and the idea she was aware of any one of them that would cause this level of evasion made his stomach muscles knot up. She _had_ to understand. He could _make_ her understand if he could just _speak_ with her.

Now he stood before the mirror in his quarters, preparing to meet the queen for breakfast as he had done since arriving. In every way she treated him as an honored guest, despite the fact that he had demanded access to every database on Alderaan for his Clones to examine for any clues that, of course, she might be unaware of. He could tell she didn't care for the idea, but there was little she could do in the face of his authority in the Empire.

The door buzzed. Anakin forsook his reflection, gathered his black cloak and opened it. Behind was Rex and his expression bore the signs of grave news. He put his first to his chest and bowed, then held out a data reader. "We found evidence of Jedi on the planet, sir." Anakin's pulse quickened. "We almost didn't find this, but my men are good, if you don't mind my saying."

He flicked the reader to life. What he saw was strange, to say the least. It was a receipt for a single item, a flower bought from a flower vendor registered to the capitol city. The buyer was listed as a minor Alderaanian nobleman named Dolen Heryn. This in and of itself was blandly boring, but what once would have been overlooked now bore the fruits of the new facial recognition system. A familiar face stared back at Anakin, that of a ginger haired man in fine civilian clothing, his expression careworn and sad. His image bore a critical alert symbol and beneath the image was written out Obi-Wan Kenobi, JEDI KNIGHT. DETAIN OR KILL. Contact Imperial authorities immediately.

Anakin ran his fingertips over the image of his former master, then let it wander to another name on the profile. A listed relation, a wife named Naera. Touching the name yielded a profile with another familiar face, another Jedi Master. Obi-Wan's longtime friend and companion, Master Lyra, with whom Anakin had formed a friendship. He had never suspected his master of breaking the Code with her; Obi-Wan was the very soul of a Jedi Knight, who would never commit a violation of that magnitude. Yet Anakin's mind shied away from the idea that Obi-Wan had bought this woman a flower. Not in disbelief, but as if he had just exposed a secret part of his master that had been hidden for all these years, something his eyes were not meant to see.

He had never suspected it, but now given the ideation he could not help but resee all those little moments between the two that should have spoken to _some_ sort of feelings between the two masters. It wasn't that far-fetched. Could she have convinced Obi-Wan there was nothing left of the Order, nothing left for them but to give in to their passions? Perhaps she had wiled her way into his master's bed. Perhaps it was nothing after all.

A confusing cocktail of emotions swirled within Anakin. On the surface was a deep-seated anger and resent. At the worst times in their relationship the bulk of the misunderstandings between master and apprentice had been Obi-Wan's preaching that held back the greatness of his padawan, or so Anakin thought. He by no means believed he was above the rules, but there were times when those rules failed to take into account human variance. Even Qui-Gon had realized this. It was a lesson Obi-Wan had shunned and Anakin felt he could have been so much more had he just been allowed to learn more things, grander things. He was capable of so much, but always had the Council held him down, afraid of his power.

But for all his preaching, Obi-Wan seemed now guilty of the cardinal sin, the most important thing he had ever forbidden his padawan—love. It hardly mattered that the marriage was probably fake, a disguise; it was built on a spark of truth. And it infuriated Anakin to think his master thought himself above that which had kept his apprentice mired in darkness and lies for years upon years. Perhaps he and Lyra had been together for years, even, and he and Obi-Wan had been two liars living together, one pointing the finger at the other.

Yet beneath all that Anakin was already looking for a way he could use this information. It bonded them in a way they had never enjoyed underneath the dogma of the Jedi Order and in that kinship could be forged a new relationship. If they could work together again, outside the rules that had strained their brotherly love, what could they accomplish?

"Thank you," he said to Rex, then joined him in the hall. He kept the data reader and they walked together until the grand dining hall, where Rex excused himself from his lord's presence. Queen Breha sat within, her fingers playing at a cup of juice, eyes unreadable as he approached and seated himself nearby. "Majesty," he greeted her with a nod.

Within a few moments a plate was placed before him and several beverages from which he could choose. "Lord Skywalker," she returned, sounding like the perfect polite politician.

He unfolded his napkin and draped it along his lap, then reached for the cup of caf. He took a sip, let himself enjoy the taste, then set the cup back down to look at her gravely. Without ceremony he handed over the reader and said, "What do you make of this?"

Such a brief reaction. Breha's eyes widened and he felt anxiety crawl through her aura in the Force. When she looked back into his face her expression was schooled."It claims an Alderaanian noble using a name I do not recognize has been flagged as a Jedi Knight in disguise."

"The claim is valid. He was my master."

She gazed at him solidly. "If there was a Jedi here, he did not make himself known."

Anakin nodded slowly, trying to appear reasonable and relaxed, a man you would want to confess to. "I see. You say ' _was_ a Jedi'. Are you sure he's not still here? He and the wife listed are both Jedi, incidentally."

If the question caught her off guard, she made no visual show of it, but he could feel her anxiety twinge. "At this point I'm not sure of anything. I do not personally monitor every individual that comes and goes. That's for local governing bodies to address. I'm sure Emperor Palpatine would sympathize."

A smirk quirked the side of his mouth. "Yes, indeed, he would. You don't recognize the name, you say?"

"Not the first name. The house name, yes. There was never such an individual born to it that I am aware of."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Where would he get such a falsified identity?"

"I'm sure I don't know," she retorted, her jaw tightening in anger. Her eyes were daggers and he her prey, but looks could not kill a Sith.

"I think you should let my men..." he started, but at that moment he felt a spike in Rex's mood.

Within thirty seconds the door burst open and the Clone rushed to Anakin's side, abandoning all honorifics as he said, "Sir, you need to see the HoloNet." What was strange was that despite the urgency, Rex almost did not want his lord to see the HoloNet News, was somewhat afraid of the consequences.

Breha motioned to a server, who activated a holographic emitter that ran along one side of the table. A display painted itself against the wall behind it and Anakin felt his breath stop in his lungs when he beheld the image on the news. She was more beautiful than an Angel on the moons of Iego. Her hair was dressed in ringlets that bore white flowers like a lake dotted by lilies. Her raiment was the color of the deep sea, flowing gently over her swollen belly. But his eyes were glued to her hands, slender and pale, fingers tangled with a cord at the end of which hung a japor snippet.

Padme's face was as lovely as it ever had been, soft in sweet repose. Her coffin was stately, lined in costly materials befitting her station. Beneath her the HoloNet News marred the image with a caption in all capital letters: _SENATOR AMIDALA DEAD! Naboo Royals Devastated._

At the head of the table Queen Breha was crying, her eyes on the face of her friend and her hand covering her mouth. Her grief was very real; Anakin could sense it and it frightened him, for he was trying so very hard to find a reason to believe what he had seen was not real. "Speak to our contact on Naboo," he ordered Rex through numb lips. "Right now."

"Yes, sir," Rex replied with all haste. He retreated to a further corner of the room to minimize his volume.

Previously famished, now Anakin could not imagine eating ever again. He tore his gaze away from the news and stared at the table, hearing without hearing the reporters talk about how officials on Naboo wouldn't give many details on her death, but would only say that a friend had delivered her home. Had that friend been Obi-Wan?

Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe none of it had ever truly mattered. He had fought so hard all his life to bring down the most terrifying enemy imaginable—death itself. And now death had had the last laugh. Stars swirled before his vision before Anakin realized he had been forgetting to take in oxygen. He forced himself to inhale, but couldn't force himself to think beyond the basic maintenance of needs.

Someone turned the holo-emitter off and he wanted to express his gratitude because the headache that was forming could not support the violation of distant chatter. Beside him he could sense Breha's compassion and fear, an odd mixture, but perhaps not altogether uncalled for. She was kind and she wanted to be kind even to him, but at the moment he felt like he had died and returned as a brewing storm that could kill everyone in this room. Yes, she had good reason to fear, but he would do her no harm.

Rex returned and this time bowed. "Sir, our contact says he was getting ready to file a report. He was still looking through the queen's database for information. He says two days ago a stranger arrived in the hangar with a preservation unit. The queen was called for and for a time he could listen in, patched into the hangar security cam. The body in the preservation unit was identified as Senator Amidala, who had been killed in an altercation with two bounty hunters."

Anakin knit his brow at that, confused. He had authorized no use of bounty hunters, certainly none that would take Padme's life. Who would do this, now that the war was winding down? She was no threat. "Go on," he urged, his voice barely functioning.

"The stranger was identified as a Jedi Knight and seemed terribly upset as the incident was relayed. One of the bounty hunters was killed. The other got away. Not much else could be gleaned after that. The conversation was taken into the queen's office and our contact doesn't have access there. But he did manage to hear the Jedi's name, sir."

Tensing, Anakin waited to hear the name of his master. He wasn't sure how he would feel about it when he did. Which made it all the more unsettling when he did not.

"Lyra Xedryn, sir."

It gave him a reason to pause and wonder. Was Obi-Wan not with them? There were a few tattered remnants of a Force bond between them, there always would be. He felt quite certain he would know if his former master had perished, but there were no guarantees where the Force was concerned, so heavily was its action mediated by the person wielding it. Could the bond have finally broken completely?

Rex was waiting on an order, he was aware. He was going to have to make some sort of decision, but part of him wondered why he should even bother. For such weakness Palpatine would punish him, perhaps even kill him, and the idea was tantalizing. But Anakin had questions, things he needed to know before letting himself succumb to that level of apathy.

He also felt the birth of a new lust within him, the lust for revenge on whomever had ordered the killing of his wife. And what sweet revenge it would be. The first thing would be finding Lyra and making her tell him the details of Padme's death. Then? Then death would fly on swift wings to the man who pulled the trigger.

Turning eyes that had faded from blue into the beginnings of scarlet as if blood had been poured into his irises, he said blankly, "Pull every file the Jedi database has on Lyra Xedryn. I want to know everything possible about her. And ready my ship. We're going to pay our respects at Naboo."

He could tell Rex was chilled. Good. Let them all fear him, for he was in no mood for mercy.

oOo

It was cold and damp and dark. At first he had no recollection of where he was, but the sound of dripping water hitting stone awakened his senses. There was a great wave of the Force surrounding him from deep within the very heart of the mountain peak upon which the Jedi Temple had been built. It was a fountain of great power that flowed through him, called him home. Obi-Wan opened his eyes to the darkness. His hand splayed along the dusty floor, searching for the cylinder upon which depended his life.

His fingers closed around the hilt of his lightsaber and he breathed a sigh of relief. Taking it slow, he cataloged the situation. He was lying stomach down on a cold floor, a light breeze adding its chill to his body. There were no noises other than the dripping water, no distant lights upon which he could fixate. He could sense Clones in the Force, but they weren't the rushed, bloodthirsty seekers that had chased him into this small nest. These were Clones that had given up the search, that were guarding what they assumed was a now hastily vacated Temple. That suited him.

Pressing his hands to the floor, Obi-Wan pushed himself to his knees and the world spun even though he had no way of seeing it. Bile rose up in his throat and he groaned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. A chill passed through his body as he fought the urge to be sick. His shoulder burned, reminding him that the source of his distress lay within his very blood.

The planet stopped it's violent dance gradually and he was able to stand without heaving. Feeling in the dark, he located a wall and leaned against it to give himself time to adjust to being conscious. Now that the nausea had passed he found himself unnaturally hot and opened his collar just a bit. His head was pounding. Whatever that droid had shot him with was torturous to say the least. He was glad he had been out cold for the greater part of it.

The sounds of tiny nails scratching prompted him to ignite his lightsaber. From the shadows two tiny, glowing eyes stared at him. A twitching nose and soft, fuzzy ears made him relax. It was only a rodent. It studied him for a few seconds, transfixed by the blue light, then scampered off into the darkness and he grunted.

Pushing himself off the wall, Obi-Wan tried to retrace his steps. When he found the exit to the stairway, the cool air made his lashes flutter shut in appreciation of the feeling. Another wave of dizziness struck. He flattened against the wall to keep from falling and concentrated, waiting for it to pass. He wanted to lay back down, to sleep it off, but knew every moment he spent in one spot was a moment closer to death.

He took a few tentative steps downward and decided to stick close to the wall. At the bottom was a half-broken, metallic bridge that led into the lower levels of Coruscant. Well, he was not going to Force-jump it, he decided. He could make it, certainly, but would probably lose the battle with his nausea soon thereafter.

The lights here were dead, for the most part. No one came here, to this forgotten entrance. He kept his lightsaber burning as he eased his way onto the cracked platform. He had not had to worry about this when he had been here last time—Jedi using this entrance would naturally use the Force to navigate.

The platform creaked and his heart sped up. He froze, gathered the Force about him and sent it curling around the metal upon which he stood, covering it like the tide washing in, giving it strength to carry at least one more passenger. Concentrating offered him a distraction from the dizziness. He took a deep breath and finished the crossing.

On the other side, beyond the clutter of broken droid pieces and metal scraps, lay a door and through that door the rest of Coruscant. Bracing himself through another bout of illness, Obi-Wan pressed on and found himself on a landing way too far down to view the sky, but bathed in the unnatural light of the lamps above. He shut down his lightsaber and for a time he walked alone.

Entering a building that would help him ascend, he came across the first few vestiges of life scratching out a living this far from the surface. A young couple in the hallway, seated beneath a wall of graffiti, eyes hazed over in the fog of some sort of drug. They both looked at him in his Alderaanian clothes beneath his Jedi robe he had taken for warmth, not taking him for what he truly was. With a pale smile the man held up a hand infuser, offering to share.

Another set of eyes further down the hall kept Obi-Wan from saying or doing anything. These eyes were intelligent, jealously protective of the users to whom he sold his wares. Arms crossed, he hissed, "Wanna buy something, rich man?"

"No," Obi-Wan replied neutrally, stepping along. "I already have a dealer. Perhaps you've seen him? Nautolan by the name of Fisto?" These people probably didn't even know Palpatine's name, much less some random Jedi.

The dealer glared as he disappeared down another hallway.

And this was the heart of Coruscant. Beneath the beauty and light lay a decaying core, where people did what they could do to survive the sorrow. It was a perfect metaphor for the Senate above. Folding his arms into his sleeves, Obi-Wan let himself half-lapse into a light meditation as he continued walking, knowing he would see suffering as the night wore on.

oOo

A/N: Fisto sells the good stuff.


	13. Hunted

Sins of the Sons

by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

oOo

There was an upraised, square pit of stone in the center of the receiving area of her quarters. Within a fire crackled, warming Lyra has she reclined on a comfortable lounger, her body draped in a furry woolen throw the color of the snow. Over the pit hung a pot of warm cider, its metallic underside constantly licked by the flames. Her eyes were gazing out the wall window as the rains poured out in grief.

It was a comfortable respite. Force, but she was tired. She had barely spent more than a handful of days here on her home planet, but her memories lent her the feeling that she had finally come home. Here in the soft dim of day she could pretend the outside universe did not exist, that nothing demanded her attention.

Except Obi-Wan was on the outside, his whereabouts unknown. It kept her from achieving true serenity. Especially now...

She hadn't slept much in the past few days. It felt like she had lost her center ever since the death of the Senator of Naboo. She wondered if Anakin had learned of Padme's death, if he would destroy the galaxy in his grief.

They had agreed, she and the Queen of Naboo, that the best thing for all involved was for as few as possible to come to know that Padme had actually given birth. The queen alone had the authority to prevent medical examiners from discovering the truth, but no one else would be privy to the knowledge. Not even the Naberrie family. Not until the two children could be safe from the Empire, safe from whomever had ordered Padme's death, and both women believed those two were one in the same, even if there was no proof.

Lyra had not stayed a single night on the beautiful planet, wanting to minimize the risk to the queen and to herself. She had a soft goodbye to the senator's sleeping form, then departed for her home planet to wait for contact from Alderaan. When it was safe she would return and resume her duties to Master Yoda.

As fate would have it that very day would bring word from not Queen Breha, but her husband. When she sat up and opened the channel a hologram of the Senator of Alderaan appeared before her with a bow of his head in greeting. "Master Xedryn, I am grateful to finally be able to contact you. I followed Anakin Skywalker here to Alderaan and he only left yesterday. We saw the HoloNet News on Padme. What happened?"

A thrill of pain tore through her. "We were tracked to Lothal by two bounty hunters, one of which I killed and the other who got away. He was a Mandolorian with a Jango Fett fixation. I tried so hard to protect her, but in the end..." She couldn't go on.

"I am sure you did your best," he replied gently, seeing her grief. "We've finished securing communications, obviously, so you can feel free to contact us on the usual channel. There is something you should know, however. Skywalker is aware that you and Master Kenobi were on Alderaan."

Her wrists went icy with dread and for a long moment all she could do was stare in horror. When she could finally speak at all it was in a hushed tone. "How?"

Organa shook his head sadly. "Apparently his Clones pored through every database on Alderaan. It was a violation of private information the likes of which hasn't been seen in ages, all in the name of seeking Jedi terrorists." The disgust in his voice was evident. "He found a receipt Master Kenobi charged."

"But our aliases," she stammered, stunned that so simple a thing had given them away.

The senator looked at her gravely. "They have new face matching software that picked up on Master Kenobi's features and tipped off their scanners. Who would have thought they would sift through such innocuous data? They apparently found some of my own flimsi trails, no matter how hard I tried to hide it. We're all going to have to be a lot more careful."

"Are you in any danger because of us?" she asked, not sure she could stomach the guilt on top of everything else that had gone wrong.

The relief when he said, "No," was only minimal. "Breha was able to make it seem we had no idea you were on Alderaan, that you had come to Padme's aid in secret. She deemed the risk to her small in such a case, but of course now they will be waiting for your return." He stopped that train of thought with a sigh.

"And the twins?"

"They are being well cared for. He did not find them, nor let on that he believed anything other than that Padme perished without having given birth. Master Yoda is also aware of Padme's death. He thinks it best if they were separated, even onto different worlds. He's meditating on the possibilities now and may commission Master Kenobi when he returns. Incidentally, he wasn't too happy with the choice to go to Coruscant. He said he understood, but he did not like to be kept in the dark."

Both she and Obi-Wan had known Yoda would caution against it. They knew it was wrong to hide the truth, but Obi-Wan was adamant that he at least try to talk to Anakin, for his sake. Attachment was such a tenacious predator, once it had its claws in you. "It was wrong of us not to inform him of that. If you speak to him, would you please offer my sincere apologies on behalf of us both?"

"I can do that," he agreed easily. There was no judgment in his eyes and for that she was grateful. "At any rate, it seems Skywalker has infiltrated Naboo with at least one spy who spotted you and overheard your name. He is now looking through the Jedi Temple records for any information on you. What he plans after Naboo is anyone's best guess, but until we've thoroughly checked every possible avenue of surveillance here on Alderaan I suggest you remain in hiding." Lyra had a feeling he omitted where she was on purpose, just in case the line wasn't as clean as he thought it was.

"Of course," she said, thinking of how far Obi-Wan was, how events seemed to be careening further and further out of control. Bracing herself, she asked him, "Have you heard from Obi-Wan? Or anything about him?" She would know if he had died. She would know.

Organa shook his head. "We've heard nothing, I'm afraid. I have people watching the Emperor's records for mention of any new Jedi prisoners. One was brought in a week ago, a young girl who we believe was killed. But nothing on Master Kenobi."

Lyra's heart panged at the mention of a young girl dying at the hands of that treacherous monster Palpatine or his slaves. The news that Obi-Wan was, for all intents and purposes, missing made her both anxious and relieved. No news was good news when dealing with murderous fiends like Palpatine. With luck Obi-Wan was in hiding, safe and waiting for the opportune moment to escape.

"That poor child." She touched her temples in stress. "Perhaps someone should be there on Coruscant in case others are in hiding and need help."

To her surprise, Organa shook his head. "Master Yoda thought you might feel that way. He told me it is enough that Obi-Wan is there now, that should the opportunity arise, he will take it. Please, stay where you are for the time being. Hopefully we will have this place secure enough that you may return. I will let you rest now. If there are any further developments, I will let you know. Master Yoda will be communicating through me to maintain the sanctity of his own hideout, so if he has orders I will relay them." He gave her a soft look. "Please, try to be patient. The galaxy cannot afford to lose another Jedi."

Lyra nodded with a wan smile. "I will, Senator. Thank you. Xedryn out."

When he disappeared she closed her eyes, trying to sort through her emotions so she could achieve a semblance of serenity. Behind her the door opened and her maidservant entered, prompting Lyra to close her eyes. She was tall, thin and quiet, with gentle eyes and a kind demeanor. Taena was laden with a tray bearing a meal of light, healthy foods. She placed it on the table at Lyra's side and said, "You can stop pretending to sleep now. Time to eat, Lady Xara."

"I don't pretend to sleep," she sheepishly told the girl, peering at the place in piqued interest. It did look good.

Taena nodded and refilled the cider. "I should hope not. Still, when you're pensive I'm learning you tend to neglect the basics, so I want you to know I'm on my toes." She smiled at her mistress's rolling eyes. Their relationship was a strange one. Taena was younger and in the subordinate position, but was a hard taskmaster when it came to making sure Lyra was well cared for.

Lyra took a bite of soup and let the warmth course through her pleasantly. "I'm fine. I'm not quite ready to check into the Halls of the Dead yet, but if I get the urge to start heading that way, I'll let you know." The Halls of the Dead were a series of catacombs deep beneath the estate where each Xar or Xara slept eternally in their own stone-carven alcove.

"Very funny," Taena replied blandly. She stoked the fire a little bit. "I tried to come in before, but saw that you were talking on the comm. Any news?"

"Just that I'm now _particularly_ hunted by a powerful Jedi-turned-Sith." She looked at her maidservant causally. "The usual fun."

Taena huffed at her joke, but inwardly concealed a swirl of anxiety and steel. "I will have my network of spies double their concentration on offworld events."

At this Lyra smiled teasingly. "You have a network of spies at your age?" Of course she would. Age wasn't a qualifier for her position, only ability and dedication.

The maid grinned back. "I've been promoted to your personal servant, my Lady. I have spies and lots of blasters, vibroblades and even several very old and very sharp knives. Be glad I'm emotionally stable." Her wide grin and wink seemed an ironic gesture at that given moment.

Raising her eyebrow, Lyra said, "I'm not so sure." Her servant only shrugged and nudged her plate toward her.

oOo

It was irrevocably true. His wife was dead. Anakin stood waiting for Queen Apailana at a window in the grand audience chamber where Padme had once sat and ruled her people. His eyes savored the vista of Naboo and the memories he had here. He was grateful she would rest here and not on some unknown world that was not her own.

Upon landing the first thing he had demanded was to see the grave. The adviser that had been sent to greet him was flustered by the lack of protocol, but had no choice but to comply when Skywalker refused to allow anything to bar his way. And so he had been taken back along the lake country where he had first fallen in love, back to the estate of the Naberrie family and to a private family cemetery that looked more like a flowing garden of breathtaking beauty.

They said very little to him and he was fine with that. He wanted none of their compassion because it would not bring her back. For at least an hour he had let himself forget all time and space so he could gaze on the stone that bore her name, and one by one those who had stood with him dropped away until only two of his Clone guardians remained at a respectful distance.

He had considered asking if they had found out the sex of his child and decided against it. Knowing would only deepen the loss. Better that the child remain nameless and forgotten, though it killed some distant part of his soul to do so. When he left he did not bid her farewell, but instead promised he would be with her again someday.

The entrance to the audience chamber opened and Queen Apailana entered, dressed in the fashion that Padme had once wore when she had been queen. Her eyes were compassionate and he found it irritating. "Master Skywalker," she began.

He held his hand up. "It's 'Lord Skywalker' now, your Highness. I am no longer a Jedi."

Surprise flickered in her aura, then disappeared under training. She nodded and motioned him to a seat nearby and took her throne. He declined to sit, instead moved into her view, standing tall and firm. If it bothered her she did not let it show. "I understand you came to pay your respects to Senator Amidala. We are moved that you thought so very highly of her and for the ways in which you aided her throughout her career. Your friendship with her made you a friend of her people as well."

There was something not quite sincere, though she tried very hard to be so. Within her was an anxiety that belied any true friendship toward him. He crossed his arms, paced a few steps to the side, considering his words carefully. "I'm pleased to hear that, Queen Apailana. Naboo will always have a place in my heart. Naboo gave me one of her daughters as a wife and friend, and for that I'll always be thankful." Her countenance moved with a calculated surprise that did not reach her emotions. So, she knew of their marriage. Anakin found he had no patience for games and so drove straight to the point. "I understand she was brought here by a woman. A Jedi woman?" Now true surprise. He paced back to his original spot and waited.

Apailana quickly recovered her composure. "She was not dressed as a Jedi."

"Nevertheless, a Jedi she was." He looked at her beneath cold, hooded eyes. "Are you saying you were unaware?" When she gave no reply, he added, "Are you aware of the penalty the Empire has set for concealing Jedi?"

At this one of her advisors hissed, "How dare you?" and took an angry step forward.

Anakin raised his hand and held the man in his spot with his power, shaking his head in rebuke. "I would be careful if I were you." He turned back to Apailana, whose anger was tightly held in check. He softened his expression. "Because of my friendship to your people I am willing to overlook any minor indiscretions when my wife's body was delivered home. I'm grateful to the Jedi who did it. All I want to know is where she went."

The queen shook her head. "She did not say where she was headed. She did not even stay for one night's rest, but departed as soon as her burden was lifted."

"And the security recordings that document her arrival? Her ship make and model? Her face?" He knew the answer before she gave it.

Her expression was impassive, every bit as much of a mask as her makeup. "There are none."

Anakin turned his head toward Rex, who confirmed. "Missing data blocks suggest deletion, sir."

"Of course." Anakin paced a little before her, eyes on the floor as he considered his options. The Empire was new; untried and untested. Of course the people did not respect it as they should. So the task fell to him to make them respect it. He stopped and looked young Apailana straight in her dark eyes, reminded of a young queen who had been just as strong. It felt like an age had passed since then. But he would not be sidetracked by sentimentality. That emotion was nearly bled out of him. "For the sake of the friendship I bear your planet I will not impose any sanctions on your people, economic or otherwise. You, however, have demonstrated a willingness to disobey the Empire and have committed treason. You will be apprehended and taken to Coruscant to face trial. Rex, put her on the ship and call for a rendezvous."

"This is an outrage!" her advisor hissed, even as her handmaidens raced for their queen's side.

Anakin released him from his hold, brushed his black robe aside to reveal his lightsaber. "Would you like to discuss this matter further?"

The advisor paled at the threat and backed down almost immediately. "These atrocities will not be tolerated long," he murmured, falling back into a chair and cradling his temples between two hands.

The Clones removed the handmaidens easily enough and put binders across the wrists of Apailana, who said nothing in the face of her own demise, but merely watched Anakin sadly. It wasn't for him she was sad, however, but the democracy she could see crumbling around her. She had no concept of the stability the Empire would bring. Yes, the transition would be difficult and freedoms would have to be paid in tribute in exchange, but in the grand vision there was peace and safety unlike any other period in history, and so he had no trouble with making her an example.

By the time he left Naboo Anakin had come to the realization that any thoughts of suicide to join his beloved wife were pointless and wrong. His mistake had been in thinking he himself would bear no price for the Empire he was helping to build. If he let his grief swallow him whole then her death would be in vain. A coldness settled over him, replacing the pain and anguish. He would not even allow himself to cry in the privacy of his own quarters anymore. In the darkness he would fill his mind with visions of his legacy, of the peace and stability he would build for the galaxy, so that no one would ever have to suffer as he had.

A few days later Apailana was taken aboard another ship where she would be taken face Palpatine. Anakin privately wondered what words would be exchanged between the two, wondered what her fate would be, but he deemed it best not to know. Let Palpatine play god for now. Someday it would not be so.

After poring through the Jedi Archives files on one Master Lyra Xedryn, Anakin learned some very interesting things, not the least of which was that her home planet was a hotbed of Force studies that included knowledge of the Darkside. That alone made a visit worth his time. If she happened to be there as well? So much the better. And he had a feeling she would be there. Something in the Force pricked at his consciousness. Something like destiny.

When he arrived he ordered all weapons trained upon what the Archives listed as the capitol city, which prompted a very concerned communication from their Prime Minister Cilmin Lhoss, a man with white hair and startling blue eyes. Ruling a planet that had little contact with the outside world had not accustomed him to hiding his emotions as skillfully as politicians in the Senate. On the viewing screen his surprise at having a sudden visitor was very apparent. "Why have you trained weapons on our capitol?" he asked without ceremony.

Anakin, seated comfortably in his command chair, allowed himself a cordial smile. "I am Supreme Commander Anakin Skywalker of the Imperial Forces. I hope you're aware of the changes going on in our galaxy. Our weapons are merely a formal way of announcing our intentions, Minister Lhoss. I've come for a very specific purpose and want no barriers in my way. See that there are none and the weapons will never fire. Fail and, well, I would hate to even consider that possibility, to be honest."

Lhoss narrowed his brow in displeasure at such a threat, but kept his cool. "And what is your specific purpose?" His were the eyes of a dangerous snake poised to strike. In the Senate he would probably have made many enemies, Anakin mused to himself. He was no puppet leader of the Xara as he had surmised he would find. Still, even the strongest kings could fall.

"I'm interested in a citizen of your planet. A Jedi named Astlyr Xedryn." Anakin went for the argument he had been building since his decision to come here. "I believe she has broken Xaran law by returning to this planet at a time when she is a wanted criminal, thereby inviting outside interference with her fellow Xara. At present I have no wish to interfere with the Xara or your government. I merely wish to deal with Lady Xedryn herself. Has she returned here? Think carefully before you answer."

Not so much as a flicker of an eye movement betrayed that Lhoss was anything but alone, but Anakin felt certain someone was there and that this somewhat would inevitably be a Xara who could run damage control for their interests. A moment passed before Lhoss nodded thoughtfully, as if he had decided himself to give the answer. "Yes. Lady Xedryn did return here. Our records indicate she retreated to her ancestral manor house. While the law you cite only applies to the spread of the Darkside beyond our planetary borders incurring the wrath of the Jedi, given that there is no Jedi Order left it may be time to reconsider our laws. Particularly when we are given little choice to do so. We will transmit you coordinates to her homestead and I do hope, Supreme Commander, that you will consider us, for the time being, your humble servants."

For the time being. That phrase interested Anakin, but it was a consideration for later. A helmsman nodded that he had received the coordinates and Anakin bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Minister. I will take a shuttle to her home immediately. Be advised I may stay for a while. I may wish to study your culture." Lhoss did not look pleased at that lie, but as he himself said, had little choice but to accept at this time. "Skywalker out."

The feed was cut. He had the feeling Lhoss would prefer not to have to wish him a farewell anyway. Anakin called Rex and five other Clones to join him on the planet surface where night was just falling. Privately, he was disappointed. He could not feel his master here.

Below Lyra was sleeping comfortably in her bed, unaware of the danger so near until the hands of her guardian pressed into her arm and shook her awake. "My lady, you must get up," Taena hissed, shaking her again.

Sitting up and sensing the panic in her servant, Lyra said, "What is it?" even as she threw the blankets off her.

Taena was already holding her Jedi robe open, her lightsaber clutched in one hand as well. "Lady Xara, he's here. Anakin Skywalker has come for you. He has weapons trained on the capitol. We have to get you out of here."

Lyra halted her progress at that. "What? Weapons on the capitol?" She shrugged her robe on, took her weapon, but made no move to rush out the door as Taena motioned her to. She shook her head. "He'll kill them."

"They told him where you live, Lady Xara," Taena growled viciously. "They've sold you out. A Xar gave the order to allow it."

She had a feeling her servant wasn't going to quite go along with the reality that it mattered little whether or not she had been sold out. Again, she shook her head. "They had no choice. There are innocent people in the capitol and Anakin Skywalker has no problem killing innocents."

There were actual tears in Taena's dark green eyes. "Lady, he'll kill _you_ instead." At her hip a comm link beeped. She picked it up hastily, her face betraying horror when the voice announced Anakin was on a shuttle bearing down on the manor.

Lyra sank onto the bed with a knot in her stomach. So this was it. She had no choice but to accept it. To let him murder that many people to spare her own life? It was unthinkable. And if she managed to escape, what then? They would shoot any ship of hers out of the sky and he would find her if she hid on the planet. Clearly her own kind were going to be no help. They would allow her to fall to protect their own. It was the Xaran way.

"Will you not even try?" Taena whispered, sinking down beside her.

Letting out a shaking breath, Lyra resolved to wait for death to come to her. "I could never do that and be who I am. And who I am is a Jedi." She thought of Obi-Wan, thought a silent apology for complicating his life as she had.

Ten minutes later a voice on her own comm link announced the arrival. She could sense him now, could feel him drinking in the Darkside of Xhal with a strange lust she had never felt in him before. It made her shiver inside. Drawing her robe around her to conceal her nightdress, Lyra left her quarters to meet him in the entrance hall of the mansion. It was strange to see him in person after all she had seen on camera. His bearing was so dark, yet she could see fragments of the padawan she had known still caged behind the bars of evil. He stood with his honor guard of Clones and took a measure of her with his eyes as she approached, greeting, "Master Xedryn."

"You used to call me Lyra," she reminded him, returning his scrutiny only briefly. "How am I to refer to you?"

His smile was amused, touched by a little self-mockery. "They call me 'Lord Skywalker' now. I somehow don't think you're going to use that title."

She nodded once. "Probably not." This new version of him was a maze of bewilderment for her. How did one go from seeing another person fondly, like some errant nephew that she had both loved and helped raise, to addressing him as a creature that now thrived on murder and pain? Casual friendliness seemed radically out of place in a situation like this. And oh, how she burned to ask about Obi-Wan, yet feared it all the same. No, it was better to let him betray any and all information first. So she held out her arms to him for binders and said, "I assume you're going to take me to Coruscant. To your new master?"

Anakin's smile melted away at that. He shook his head, pushed her wrists away from him. "You won't be needing restraints just yet, Master Lyra. Although, I will take your lightsaber." He held out his gloved hand, waved his fingers in a beckoning fashion and she gave him the blade. "I think we'll stay here for the time being. Mind giving me a room next to yours?"

Confusion suffused her. "Why?" she asked him, feeling chilled by the return of his smile.

"To wait for Obi-Wan."

His reply told her at least one vital piece of information—that, at least to Anakin's knowledge, Obi-Wan was still alive. This was almost worth the spark of fear his answer inspired. It also implied that Obi-Wan was not in custody, again only to Anakin's knowledge. Did he know his master had gone to the Gallery of the Dead? How could she ask without giving away too much?

She asked Taena to see about a room for Anakin and others for his Clones. "Obi-Wan won't come here," she assured him, hoping beyond hope that she spoke the truth.

Anakin did not appear convinced, however. His next four words filled her with a dark foreboding.

"I think he will."

oOo

He had had no sense of time when he awakened beneath the Jedi Temple, deep within the dark alcove in the Sacred Spire. Now he could feel the minutes pass as though they were hours. Obi-Wan was trapped in the lower levels of Coruscant, living his life as a nameless vagabond as he waited for word from his old friend Dexter Jettster that the coast was clear and his transport was ready. Clad in ragged civilian clothes, his Jedi attire in a pack on the floor, he stood in the refresher eyeballing his darkened hair critically, thanking the Force that it would wash out. Not that it looked bad, per se, but it gave him a somewhat devilish appearance that superseded his usual breath of spring brand of attractiveness. A snort escaped him at that thought.

After his abandoning the Temple, he had managed to walk through most of the night to where Dex's cafe was. In the back he had huddled down beside a garbage receptacle and waited until morning for his friend to arrive. It had been a long and fragrant hour that he cared never to repeat.

Dex had welcomed him with open arms, a true friend to the last. It was he that had provided Obi-Wan with the disguise he was using now and he that was even now trying to arrange to get his Jedi friend off the planet. Dex had laughed when he saw Obi-Wan, had teased him about his penchant for trouble, but had otherwise been open about what he knew concerning the numbers scratched on Qui-Gon's grave.

"Ah, a tracer code," Dex had said, eyeing the napkin Obi-Wan had written the number on. He pointed at a series of characters near the beginning. "These four here. They indicate one of the leading criminal organizations on Coruscant. Ingenious, really. You can plug these numbers into the HoloNet planetary map database and it won't even trace back to them, that's how good they are at hiding in plain sight. It'll give you coordinates of wherever the signal is traced, no matter which planet. Whoever's using this has some decent cash flow, if you take my meaning."

That certainly fit with Anakin's current status. Obi-Wan had gone to a public terminal and used the numbers several times, each time being told the signal could not be found until one evening he saw the screen display change, showing him the palace at Theed. Curious, he had searched the news database to see if there was a public reason for Anakin to have gone there and had learned of Padme's death and the strange circumstances surrounding her body's return home.

It had been a blow he had not been prepared for. It was yet another death in a long line of suffering caused by Palpatine's mad seizure of power. But it also strengthened his resolve to do whatever he could to end this war on freedom, no matter the cost.

Obi-Wan scratched his itchy, chestnut-brown beard and sighed, abandoning his reflection. He was in a rundown public refresher some levels below Dex's cafe. Graffiti painted the walls and outside the door a young boy sat with am older girl and some broken droid parts, both filthy as could be. The kid looked up when he exited and said without much hesitation, "You're funny looking."

Eyebrow quirked, Obi-Wan retorted, "Likewise," and smiled as he walked on by, leaving the boy as he asked his companion what that meant.

He had taken up residence in one of the nearby alleys. Dex had apologized for the idea, but said it was best if he stayed off the grid and in a place where he could not be cornered. In the back of his alley was a railed off balcony where some builder ages ago had abandoned his job and no one ever took it back up. Obi-Wan slept on the second layer of an old scaffolding shoved up against the seedy apartment whose backyard was his current residence.

At least he could see the city lights at night and pretend they were stars.

It was here he sat down near the edge of the two-pole rail, dangling his legs over and draping his arms against the bottom rung. After a while one of the usuals in the area came up behind him, knocked him on the shoulder and said, "Ben." He had taken the name as a simple alias with letters in common with his real name so he could naturally respond to it.

He turned and saw a bottle of alcohol being offered. Obi-Wan accepted, removed the cap and pretended to take a drink, but elected to keep his wits about him at all times on Coruscant. He handed it back and murmured a thanks to Ripper, the old drunk that slept a few alleys away. Ripper took a long pull from the bottle and clapped Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Ye know where's a good place to get hammered?" he asked, only slightly slurred. He laughed and clapped him again. "I'm not askin', cause I know a place, see. So let's see then. There's 'is fountain over near the Senate, see? Right in view of all them rich bastards. Boy they hate it when a boozer gets drunk in view of their precious view. Used to they'd haul you over to the jail to sleep it off. Now them's some nice jails. 'Course now they'd prolly just shoot ye dead."

"Yeah," Obi-Wan agreed morosely, throwing a little Force behind his words. "It's not a good place to get drunk anymore."

Ripper shook his head, then nodded. "It's not a good place to get drunk anymore." He sighed and took another swig. "Now gettin' drunk near the Jedi Temple'd get you a stern talkin'-to. He he! Tried that Force stuff on me, see, an' I stopped drinkin' for a whole month! He he! They'd at least feed ye if you were hungry er somethin'. I got a little sweet on one of their healers, ye know, pretty Twi'lek girl. Gonna be a sad place without 'em."

Ripper wandered off before Obi-Wan could give him anymore Force suggestions and it was probably just as well. A whole month apparently wasn't enough to change a life. The thought made him feel a bit hollow inside. Oh, he had known there was a world of insurmountable anguish concealed by the glamour of the upper levels of Coruscant. He wasn't naive to that. Every world was the same, no matter how prosperous. But it was one thing to know it and quite another to view it, knowing there was little you could do to change it.

And it would only get worse under Palpatine's regime, he feared. The Senate had been corrupt and perhaps even the Jedi had been a bit blind, but there had been a semblance of care that had trickled down to the less fortunate. Palpatine had dropped all pretense of caring, for the most part. Oh, he maintained the status quo in interest of keeping his throne unchallenged, but it was a tight fist by which he ruled and the effects of it were starting to show themselves in the starving faces of the lower citizens who no longer could count on charity.

His comm link buzzed and he lifted it. "Dex?"

His friend replied, "Hey there, Ben. Got them Spectroball scores you were wondering about. H34 and C45. Got it?"

Hangar 34 in 45 minutes. The 'C' was just a throwaway letter. Obi-Wan let out a breath he had been holding. "Thank you, Dex. I was always a fan. Ben out."

He stood up and mentally bid farewell to his uncomfortable but very airy home. It was easy enough to make his way to the hangar with a mask over his face. Probe droids were still flying here and there, possibly in search of someone with his facial profile and dyes would not be enough. He even made an effort to change his walk.

The ship was a large public transport that he was to stow away on. He made his way to the baggage area and used the Force to urge nearby workers to move elsewhere for the time being, long enough so he could sneak aboard and hide in one of the back maintenance hatches. Sometime later, when the shuttle took off without incident, he breathed a sigh of relief and started peeling back the layers of clothing to cool off for a bit.

A day passed and he managed to sneak into the public 'fresher to wash the dye out of his hair, then snagged a bite to eat from one of the trays on its way to the passenger cart. On day three the door to his refuge opened and startled him. At his gasp a very timid Jawa leaped back and hid behind the door, then ever so slowly peaked around, gazing with those eerie gold eyes. "Move along, little one," he urged, waving his hand away.

The Jawa stood straight and marched straight into the maintenance shaft instead. Reaching into its grubby little robe, it removed a data reader and held it out for inspection. Obi-Wan took it and saw that it was a message from Dex's contact aboard the shuttle. It gave him instructions to disembark on the next stop, where he would find an old starfighter he could use just as long as he didn't ask where it came from. "Thank you," he told the Jawa, who cocked his head and waited.

Obi-Wan stared at him for a moment, wondering what one was supposed to tip a Jawa, then grabbed a stray hydrospanner and handed it to the little messenger. Delighted, the Jawa bowed quickly and left him to his thoughts.

The starfighter was a bit rickety to say the least and Obi-Wan had a pretty good idea that it was stolen on top of that, but it was transportation. When he hit deep space he finally felt more comfortable than he had in a week, just because for a precious moment he could rest without looking over his shoulder. The first thing he did was open up the feed into the HoloNet and plug in the tracer numbers, the results of which startled him.

Xhal. The signal was traced to back to Xhal. His heart hammered in his chest. Why would Anakin be there? Fumbling at the controls he put in a call to Senator Organa's secret channel and felt the seconds tick by until a sleepy looking senator answered the summons. His expression displayed his relief at seeing Obi-Wan alive. "Master Kenobi! We've been worried about you. I trust you're well?"

"Well enough, Senator," he replied. "Is Master Xedryn still on Alderaan?"

Organa's expression turned somber. "I'm afraid she isn't. Skywalker came here looking for Padme and Master Xedryn took her off world. Unfortunately, Padme was killed in the attempt to hide her."

"Yes, I heard." Obi-Wan shook his head sadly. "I was so sorry to hear it. And the baby as well. Such a tragedy."

There was something in the other man's countenance that flickered at that, as if he had a secret concealed, and Obi-Wan wondered privately what that might be. "Master Yoda has some orders for you, speaking of which. He was not too happy with your flight to Coruscant, I'll warn you."

Of course he wasn't. That was a lecture Obi-Wan had fully prepared for. "Yes, I'm sure I've got a lot to answer for when I speak with him. I'll return to Alderaan when I can to take care of those orders, but first I need to ask where Lyra is. I have reason to believe Anakin is on her homeworld right now."

Organa's dark eyes widened at that and his expression betrayed a new weight on his shoulders. "That is most unfortunate, Master Kenobi," he said, brow knit at the gravity of the situation. "She went there to hide until we could clear the palace of any forms of surveillance Skywalker may have left behind. If he's there now, there is little doubt he has taken her captive. If there's anything I can do, anything at all..."

"No," Obi-Wan breathed, knowing there was little that could be done without risking all out rebellion and war, which no one was prepared for. He leaned back against the headrest and said the only thing he could. "I have to go to Xhal. I can't let her face him alone."

Looking like this was not unexpected, Organa nodded once and said, "Of course. I will keep Master Yoda apprised."

"Thank you, Senator. Kenobi out."

The future was always in motion. No one could predict with perfect accuracy which threads would win the struggle for dominance. But he sure was going to fight, to give his life and very soul to capture this thread and banish all darkness from it.

And so he set course for Xhal to finally face Anakin.

oOo

A/N: Next chapter is kinda dark...and the ones that follow, honestly. If you're not prepared to see Anakin be a major jerkface to Obi-Wan, ya might look away.


	14. Descent

Sins of the Sons

by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

oOo

He had explored her home as if he were a welcome guest, cataloging each area and asking admittance into previously private places so he could take into account all avenues of escape. This tour had led him to where Lyra now sat studying him as he pored over the texts that filled her library. Anakin said very little except to ask clarification of something he read. She would leave his side in a heartbeat if she could, but he insisted she remain like a collared pet he could call upon at will.

Absently, Lyra pulled at the ring around her neck. The front was unadorned and simple, but the back held an infuser that kept her steadily dosed with the blood of the ysalamiri lizards that they had encountered on Dromund Kaas. With it constantly pumped into her system she could not reach the Force, could not even sense her own living cells anymore. It kept him from being able to sense her as well, but in a direct confrontation she would be helpless to him. Not that she planned on escaping, with his threat looming over her people.

He had thanked her for returning Padme to Naboo, but what does one say when a monster thanks them?He questioned her about the bounty hunters, about Obi-Wan's whereabouts and how many Jedi survived Order 66. For the time being he seemed content to allow her to be vague in her answers and that troubled her. Why would he not question her, torture her even?

Lyra did not know how much he knew concerning she and Obi-Wan's relationship, other than his knowledge and chiding of the flower Obi-Wan had given her. She could not question him and he didn't let on that he suspected anything was deeper than that. He would say little else on the matter, but seemed to be listening to her answers carefully, and of course in turn she was careful not to say much herself.

All in all it seemed they were caught in a stalemate, waiting for what she did not know.

Until today. After a few hours of reading interspersed with lunch and small talk, Anakin looked up from his reading, suddenly aware of something she could not sense. His azure eyes went far away for a long moment as he probed the Force, then a small smile began to play at the corners of his lips. When he looked at her she felt chilled by the triumph she saw written there.

Anakin closed the book and stood up, removing his comm link from his belt. "Rex, Skywalker here. Meet me at the landing pad. Bring the items we discussed. Skywalker out." Turning toward her, he held out his hand, beckoning her to join him. "Come. We have a guest."

The blood in her extremities suddenly felt as if it was straining to pass through her veins. "Anakin, please," she whispered, not sure what she was pleading for, afraid of what the next few minutes would bring.

He motioned for her again and she stood, feeling as if she were a droid walking with no feeling in her body as she operated. Anakin spoke as if she hadn't even said a word. "I've made a decision," he said softly, and the normalcy of his tone clashed with the level of anxiety he inspired in her. "Things are going to be very difficult from here on out, but I want you to know before it starts that I will take no pleasure in what's to come."

"Whatever it is, Anakin, don't," she replied, trying not to imagine the possibilities.

He stopped her in the hall and looked at her with haunted eyes—the first time he had betrayed any sort of revulsion of his own actions. "I must. Otherwise..." His eyes closed as he sucked in a deep, calming breath. When he opened them again they were gravely resolved, like a man on death row walking toward his inescapable fate. "I hope someday you'll understand. Both of you."

Lyra wrapped her arms around her midsection as the well of anxiety within widened at his words. It didn't take the Force to tell her pain was on the horizon. Rex and two Clone troopers waited for them at the windowed entrance to the landing pad and followed without being told.

Beneath an overhang of the roof Anakin held his hand up to stop them. He took a few items from Rex, including a collar like the one she wore. Ahead an old starfighter was landing in the rain, and murmuring, "Keep her here," Anakin started to walk toward it.

When she saw Obi-Wan exit the cockpit a moan escaped her lips. His eyes met hers to assess her status, then trained upon his former apprentice solemnly. Somewhere between the entrance and the starfighter they met and Obi-Wan's voice betrayed the hurt of the past few months when he said, "Anakin."

A few seconds ticked by and then without warning or word Anakin backhanded his master with a terrible force. It was enough to knock Obi-Wan to the ground. "No!" Lyra cried, taking a step, but found her arms restrained by the hard gauntlets of trooper armor.

Anakin moved to stand over Obi-Wan, to lean down and collar him, but foreseeing the action Obi-Wan leveled a kick at his apprentice's hip that knocked Anakin off balance. By the time the younger man whipped around both had their lightsabers drawn and were in battle stance, blue on blue. Anakin was the first to swing, a triple strike which Obi-Wan easily countered.'

Backing away, Anakin raised his hand and channeled the Force onto Obi-Wan's weapon, trying to rip the thing out of his master's hand. His higher midichlorian count gave him more raw strength than Obi-Wan, which was a very real threat, but through patience and discipline his master could hold onto the power for far longer and could control it easier. He kept hold of his weapon despite the energy trying to take it from him and countered by using his power to push Anakin back.

It was a fairly evenly matched fight, given those two factors. Both men were intimately knowledgeable about the ways in which the other used the Force and fought with a lightsaber. One of the Clones asked Rex if they should intervene, to which their commanding officer replied, "And hit Lord Skywalker on accident? They're moving too fast. Absolutely not."

For a time it looked as though Obi-Wan would succeed in tiring his apprentice out, to what end Lyra did not know, but the possibility was snatched away quickly. Anakin had backed his master against the starfighter and in a surprise maneuver used the Force to jerk the craft forward enough to knock Obi-Wan off balance and to his knees. Taking swift advantage, Anakin kicked the lightsaber out of his hand and forced the collar around his master's neck, even as Obi-Wan struggled against it.

The moment the Force had drained significantly enough to feel Obi-Wan's eyes widened. Lyra covered her mouth and watched as Anakin again slammed his fist into his master's jaw, nearly knocking him out. Then, taking Obi-Wan by the boot, he dragged him toward a three-pronged lamp post and forced him to his feet. Still trying to recover his senses, Obi-Wan could barely fight back as Anakin stripped him of his robe and slammed him chest first against the post, then used binders to suspend his arms from one of the three lights.

He said nothing, but motioned with his hand and Rex approached obediently, offering up the last item he had brought for his commander. Removing his own rain-soaked robe and handing it off to Rex, Anakin ripped Obi-Wan's shirt down the back and bared his flesh, then stood away to give himself room.

The final item was a whip and Lyra knew exactly where Anakin had found it. Beneath the manor there were certain rooms used by her predecessors in their pursuit of knowledge. Some had studied the makings of life, some blood and bone, and still others had devoted their career toward understanding anguish. Those rooms had not been used in centuries and yet the shame of them now resurfaced to make her bear the penalty of their use.

Anakin drew back the whip and she tensed. When the hard leather hit Obi-Wan's back and he jerked against that pole she felt tears she had not even been aware of start to fall. And still Anakin said nothing, like some cold-hearted machine designed for one purpose. He drew his hand back a second time and a hard cry hit the air. Obi-Wan had barely finished moaning in pain from the third when the fourth lashed against him. The fifth drew blood.

Each time Obi-Wan cried out in pain Lyra felt her fists tighten until her fingertips started to lose feeling. How could Anakin do this? Was it anger, revenge? All she could think was why, why is this happening? And Obi-Wan suffered on, the rain washing his blood to the landing floor in a swirling pool at his feet. She stopped counting the lashes, was afraid if she continued she would be all too horrified.

When it was done Anakin stood back to view his handiwork. Obi-Wan was tense against the pole, hugging it between his raised arms, still letting out pants of anguish as his body wound down from the abuse. He pillowed his head against an arm in a way that she could see his profile, his eyes closed as he shivered in the cold.

Satisfied, Anakin stalked away from his master, even past Lyra and his Clones, hissing, "Let her go," as he made for the entrance to the manor.

Freed, Lyra ran away from her captors to where Obi-Wan was and took her own robe off to warm him, draping the sleeves over his shoulders and down his chest to hold it to him. He tightened his jaw when the cloth touched him, but he breathed a word of thanks as she rubbed his arms to create friction. "Why did you come?" she whispered, unable to speak any louder than that.

"You know why," he replied in a shaking voice, trying to bite back the pain he was in. But it was evident in the way he held himself stiff, the way his brow was knit and his breathing was shallow. "For you, for him."

She gave him a kiss on his cheek and tried to stand against him to shield him from the elements, yet far enough away that she didn't hurt him. Leaning around to see his profile, she said, "We're fools."

His eyes opened halfway at her words. "I don't believe that." He gazed a long moment and she felt herself mesmerized by the color of the Coruscanti sky looking back. If she were a fool to love him, so be it. His expression became admonishing. "Go in where it's warm."

"I can't leave you" She rested her forehead against his shoulder. "How did you know I was here? Did Senator Organa tell you?"

"Only because I told him Anakin was here." Anticipating her next question, he supplied, "There was a tracer number on Qui-Gon's grave. He lured me into a trap and I fell for it. Perhaps love _is_ foolish."

Lyra shook her head, but didn't look up as she moaned, "No," as if begging him to refute it. She started running her hands along him for warmth again, but knew it was useless against the rain now soaking them both. It had to be wrong. Attachment that ruled you could destroy you, but truest love, truest compassion was too pure an expression of selflessness to be nothing but the domain of fools. Yet in her despair she could think of nothing but the sounds of Obi-Wan's pain as the man he loved like a brother whipped him without cause.

Maybe a half an hour passed before hands were on her shoulders, trying to ease her back. Lyra opened her eyes, looked at Taena's gentle face and steeled herself to deny the maid what she wanted. "My lady?" the servant asked, uncertain what she should do, knowing her mistress would not want to leave.

"Take her in," Obi-Wan said and for a moment Lyra held him all the more, until he whispered a single word that disarmed her completely. "Please?"

After that Taena was able to bring her in to at least the entrance hall, but Lyra would go no further than that. Anakin was across the room with his Clones, but she couldn't look at him, didn't trust herself not to attack him. Instead she sank onto a couch near the window where she could see Obi-Wan and brought her feet up, watching helplessly as he shivered in the rain, her robe his only barrier to the cold.

At some point she was aware that Taena had brought her a blanket and was trying to warm her mistress with it. The care and her own overwhelming emotional weariness lulled her into an unthinking daze that soon robbed her of her consciousness. She fell into a fitful sleep there in the entry hall while her maidservant remained at her side.

When she awoke in the middle of the night she was back in her bedroom with only a fire in the fireplace to keep her company.

oOo

It was somewhere about midnight when Obi-Wan was awakened by his wrists being freed from their bonds. The pain was excruciating and he could not stifle a hard groan as his arms fell back form the post. His strength failed him and he had no connection with the Force to aid him, and so crumbled when his knees gave way beneath him. In the pale light given off by the lamps above him he could see blood encircling his wrists from the cutting edge of the metallic binders.

Hands wrapped around his arms on either side, pulling him up to his feet. Clone troopers, cold and soundless in their duty. They forced him along the path to the entrance and inside where the warmth felt like the caress of a lover's hand on his freezing, wet skin. Obi-Wan scanned the room and saw it was empty save for the three of them. He wondered where Lyra was, if Anakin was tormenting her. It was then he noticed her robe was gone from his shoulders.

The long walk down the dim corridors saw him stumble a few times, only to be yanked back to his feet by the Clones leading him to Force knew where. He found himself barely able to keep track of which halls were taken and what sights he saw on the way. His body ached and his head spun from the strain he had endured. The state he was in made him truly aware for the first time how much the Force had supported him, kept him from faltering beneath physical trials the ordinary human could barely surmount.

At the end of a particularly unadorned corridor there was an entry that opened onto a set of stairs. Lights flickered in response to the motion of them jerking him down the staircase toward his fate, whatever that would be. Weakened and off balance, Obi-Wan slipped and would have fallen down the flight of steps if not for the Clones holding him. As it was the sudden motion sent a burning pain along the torn skin of his back and he cried out in anguish at the feeling. His captors said nothing, merely righted his steps and continued forcing him on.

When they reached the bottom there was a series of branching halls that looked older than the rest of the manor and in far less repair. The Clones showed him to a nearby room and the sight within made him shiver. The room was clinical white, but not the bright white of a place that had seen use in recent times. It appeared to have been hastily cleaned only recently. Along the walls were various cabinets and devices on shelves, things of which he had no recognition.

Near the center was a metal gurney with straps along the ankles, wrists and head. This was what chilled him most, for there could be few wholesome uses for such a bed. Was this what Anakin planned for him? A slow death by torture? Obi-Wan shuddered as they shoved him past it.

At the back of the room was a cell made for a single occupant, with a hard cot, a refresher unit shielded by only a filmy partition and a drain in the center of the floor. One of the Clones broke from his side and unlocked the barred door. He opened it and the remaining Clone pushed Obi-Wan inside. He fell to his knees and remained there, eyes closed, trying to ride through another jolt of wracking pain. The door closed with a loud clang and was locked behind him. The Clones then left him alone in the horrible room, but were doubtlessly standing guard just outside.

Hands shaking, Obi-Wan grasped the tattered remains of his shirt and pulled it off with another cry of torment. Oh, but it was worth it. The cool air on his bare, lacerated back was soothing. He used the wet remains of it to wipe at the blood around his wrists, wincing as he did so.

When he had cleaned as well as he could, Obi-Wan dropped his shirt and sank onto the cool cement floor. He closed his eyes, too weary to even brush the wet hair out of his face, and tried to clear his mind of the horror he felt. He had not been prepared for such a greeting by his former padawan. Certainly he knew Anakin had fallen to the Darkside, but to display such an abusive nature so quickly? Had it always been there, hidden away? How could he have never known what dark feelings swirled around the mind of the one he loved like a brother?

And what had he done to deserve such hatred?

It hurt him in a way he had never before known. He had given the young Anakin his dedication, his life for so many years, invested his love into this child. What horrible sin could possibly have lived alongside such a commitment that would make everything he had given seem as nothing to the grown man? Was this how badly the Darkside had twisted Anakin inside?

At some point, after his dark thoughts had begun to fade beneath the realm of sleep ,the door to the room opened. He had not the will to look. If it was Anakin he would know soon enough. Yet there were more footfalls than one and none of them matched the stalking stride of his former apprentice.

Obi-Wan heard his cell door open and opened his eyes when a Clone ordered the new occupant, "Do what you've been ordered quickly."

A form knelt by his side and he spared a glance. It was a young woman, the one who had urged Lyra indoors. She shook her head when he tried to move. "I an Taena, Lord Xar. I am the Lady Xara's servant and guardian."

"Lord Xar?" he mumbled, trying to figure out why she was using that appellation.

Taena was readying some sort of spray bottle. Her eyes trailed along his whipped back and the sight made her expression darken. "You are her mate and as such, lord of this manor, therefore you are given the title." She held the bottle up, readying to spray his skin. "It will prevent infection and help close your wounds. I'm sorry, Lord Xar, but he would not allow me to bring anything that would stop the pain."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes again. The mist of the spray was soothing to his burning skin. Finding his sorrow quickening to anger, he retorted, "Of course not." He tried to keep himself from tensing too hard when the healing agent began to sting, turned his thoughts away from the cause of his present situation for fear of the Darkside hunting his thoughts. "Where is Lyra? Is she okay?"

Finishing with his back, Taena started looking at the wrist she was nearest to. Figuring he wouldn't get away with laying still for much longer, Obi-Wan pulled himself into a seated position with a groan and let her tend his raw flesh. She frowned at the damage. "She is resting. So far Lord Skywalker has not done her injury, despite that she will not answer his questions about Jedi survivors. He demands conversation with her, nothing more. She is concerned, however, because he is studying Xaran lore of the Darkside."

So that was why they were not being immediately hauled off to Coruscant to face Palpatine. Anakin had found himself a new font of knowledge. "What kind of lore?"

She shook her head. "All manner, from philosophy to applications of the Force. We're not sure yet what he's looking for, if anything." She glanced at the Clones, who were on the other side of the room, and lowered her voice. "He has a good idea of the layout of the estate, but hasn't personally explored the lands surrounding. There are but six Clones here at any give time. The problem is that he is holding the capital. Because of that the Xara are content to let events unfold. We have been trying to find a way to remove her collar, but we've not been successful so far. That's about all I can tell you."

Seeing her speaking quietly, one of the Clones barked, "Finish it up!"

Taena glared back, then returned her gaze to Obi-Wan. "We don't know what he plans now that you've arrived. Is there anything you would have me tell the Lady Xara?"

Obi-Wan looked at her gravely. "Tell her not to do anything dangerous. And tell her...tell her there have been no mistakes made between she and I. Thank you."

She nodded once and rose to her feet. Motioning the Clone guards, she stalked to the cell door and left wordlessly when they opened it, leaving the medical supplies on one of the counters. When they filed out the door Obi-Wan reflexively examined his wrists, but his mind was on anything and everything both Qui-Gon and Lyra had ever told him about Xaran knowledge. There were many secrets that would be given to one willing to lose himself to the Darkside, things that would be unnatural and harmful both to the user and those being used against. Anakin could be looking for anything, but what would he want most?

The only left that made any sense would be knowledge that would gain him revenge. It made Obi-Wan shudder inside to think of the Darkside in the hands of a man would had lost everything he had ever desired.

oOo

He had taken the liberty of letting himself in to her quarters while she slept. Alone in the living area of her suite, Anakin stood at the wall of windows, hand clasped behind his back, watching the rain fall. It was always raining here. Always shadowy and dim, much like himself these days. It was morning, but it looked like dusk, and he thought about the contrast between here and Tatooine. His home planet demanded your attention with its bright suns and shining deserts of white sand. Xhal came at you from the dark like a secret.

The Darkside was powerful here. Nothing like Dromund Kaas, but still writhing with energy he could feel clawing at his mind every waking moment. It hungered for him and he for it, for the whispers of promised power it offered. It was what he imagined addiction to be like. Each time he drew from the lightless flow it wrapped its tendrils around him and let him taste the depths of its power, urging him to go further, to forsake everything good in him.

He had not meant to be so violent with Obi-Wan and it had left him shaken when he pulled himself out of the haze of rage. Oh, he had known he would not be able to withhold his hand completely. Obi-Wan had information and he knew his master well enough to concede torture may not even be enough to extract it. He had tasked Rex to bring the whip so that he could demonstrate to Obi-Wan that there would be no mercy.

Yet something in Anakin had snapped when he saw his former master. He had found his tongue frozen, his jaws locked and his body moving as if to a choreographed dance that ended in him lashing Obi-Wan again and again, each blow driven harder than the one before. It had taken more than Anakin cared to admit to draw back from the brink of killing his master and afterward he had been startled by his lack of control.

After leaving the landing platform he had retreated to his room. He had splashed his face and locked eyes on his reflection in the mirror for a good long while, inwardly trying to find what it was that had made him a slave to the anger instead of the reverse. It was the basic Sith tenet, the unspoken Code—never let your passion master you, always be the master in control. He had slipped and it could have cost him everything.

Anakin resolved now to draw the power he felt here slowly, to bend it to his will and not let it so easily seduce him. He would reach into the depths of the yawning chasm at his own leisure, not because the blackness tempted him.

When the bedroom door opened he heard her let out an irritated breath and a pale smile quirked at his lips. Turning, he gave a mocking bow and greeted, "Good morning, Master Lyra. I trust you slept well?"

Her shining eyes bore into him like the heat of a lightsaber. She pointed toward her suite door without looking and told him firmly, "Get out."

Anakin paced a few steps closer to her defiantly. "You might be interested in what I have to say," he mused, not backing down from her anger. It would have been fascinating to feel it if the Force in her weren't blocked from his senses. "Where Obi-Wan is at this moment, for example?"

Lyra stared at him for a moment, obviously wanting to tell him where he could go with his information, but also a slave to her heart's desire to know the fate of her lover. Lover. That the word applied to Obi-Wan still seemed unreal to Anakin, but he knew it was true now, beyond the shadow of a doubt. Her glare was no less baleful as she replied, "Where is he? No verbal games or pointless rhetoric."

"Yes, ma'am," he retorted, then retreated to a nearby couch beside an unkindled fireplace. Lyra relented with a frown and sat in a chair opposite him, arms crossed, displeased with his easy-going manner. He decided to quit playing games; she also had information he required and antagonizing her would not win him any favors. "He is in a cell beneath the manor. The _first_ questioning room, I believe. He has been treated with an antibiotic and something to stop the bleeding."

Her expression suggested a softening of her anger as her attention was shifted from his actions to Obi-Wan. "What will you do now?"

"Now? Now comes the difficult part. I still have questions that need answering."

He watched her eyes close, her shoulders lower under the burden of realization. There was, of course, always a chance she would crack first and reveal what she knew, who was helping them. He almost regretted that even that would not save his master. "You know neither he nor I will never betray those on our side." There was steel in her eyes, but even steel could be malleable under the right conditions. "You may as well kill us now. We both know that's what your new master wants."

Anakin nodded at the truth of that statement. Palpatine was interested in the lore of Xhal, but had said he had no interest in keeping either of these particular Jedi alive. As soon as they both were in Anakin's custody he was ordered to kill them if they would not talk. Playing a little with semantics, Anakin had reasoned the natural conclusion to torture _was_ death and thus did not plan to immediately obey. He measured Lyra with his gaze. "You're asking for a mercy I cannot give."

"Anakin..."

He held up a hand to forestall her, unwilling to bear her pleading. Instead, he shifted to the main reason he was here. "There is another mercy that I can and will give if you agree to it." The offer made her wary and rightly so. His proposal was a double edged blade and he knew it. "I will let you see him, comfort him. In exchange you will teach me certain things about the Force that your ancestors learned."

It clearly wasn't what she had expected. He could see the conflict waging war behind her eyes. On the surface it could seem a small price to pay, but there were things in that library that could be devastating in the wrong hands. His hands. "I've never used the knowledge in those books," she answered him.

"You contain the memories of people that did," he countered. "You must remember how they used the knowledge, how it _felt_ to use it."

She was clearly frightened by the prospect. "What do you wish to learn?"

This was the tricky part. Lyra would not like what he desired to know for fear of how he would use it. "One of your ancestors wrote a book about how the Force can effect the human body..."

She shook her head. "Why would you want to know that?" There were things in that journal that were both frightening and scarcely believable in their enormity.

Anakin waited a moment for her to stop shaking, then leaned forward to draw her eyes back to his. "If I wish to increase my power I must know all the ways in which to channel and use it. I want to know how to influence midichlorians, how they _can_ be influenced. I will torture him, Lyra, he cannot escape that fate, but I will allow you to comfort him. All you must do is help me increase my power."

Lyra took a shuddering breath, closed her eyes tightly as if to escape his presence. "Why? Why are you doing this to him?" she asked him, barely able to put voice to her words.

The truth would frighten her even more, but he found himself speaking it regardless. "I need to break him."

When she looked back her eyes were wet with tears. He forced himself to endure the judgment in her gaze. The fear in her countenance was a reflection of that which dwelt within himself for reasons he could not reveal to her yet. Her revulsion was the first price he would pay for what was to come.

"Why do you hate him so much?" she whispered.

Anakin let out a breath and let himself look away from her at last. "Think what you will, but know one thing. It is a mark of my love for him that it is not _you_ I break instead. For that would destroy him." He pushed himself off the couch and said, "Consider what I've offered."

And then he left, leaving her behind with a stunned expression. She would come around, he had little doubt. The lure of being with Obi-Wan in his time of desperate need would be too much to pass up.

All he needed was to wait.

oOo

A/N: Ani needs a serious spankin.


	15. Branded

Sins of the Sons

by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

oOo

Obi-Wan awakened, conscious of being watched. The lights were bright, signaling recent movement, and what was more the mere presence of another changed something in the air like some noise just below a human's detection threshold. These subtle cues and the silence prepared him for what was inevitably going to be a terrible meeting between he and his former apprentice.

"I know you're awake." Anakin's voice wasn't harsh, wasn't gloating or hateful. A few footfalls brought the voice closer. "I can tell by your breathing. You learn certain things serving with a person so long."

Opening his eyes so he could see Anakin, Obi-Wan replied sorrowfully, "And some things you learn too late." Laboriously, he pulled himself up into a seated position and looked into Anakin's face, trying to understand all the mysteries he had a feeling he never would. "What happened, Anakin?"

His former apprentice laughed lightly. He stood with his arms crossed in that easy-going way he had when he was thinking. "There were things I needed the Jedi failed to provide."

"Power? A license to do as you wished without consequence?" He couldn't hide the disdain in his voice.

Anakin's eyes hardened a bit at that. "The tools to stop this foolish war. The ability to expand my knowledge without restraint. They held me back. They held _you_ back as well. All of us, constrained by the fears of fools locked away in a tower, far from the cares of the galaxy until they were forced by necessity to confront the evil they allowed to remain dormant. Only then it was too late and their fears destroyed them. Search your feelings, Master. You know it to be true."

Obi-Wan shook his head wearily. There were bits of truth scattered in there, but Anakin was focused on the sins of the Order, not on the things that made the Jedi right. "You misunderstand the Jedi Council, Anakin. You're warping their motives."

"Does it matter?" His former padawan's anger was starting to simmer. Obi-Wan partially welcomed that, for it would accelerate what was to come, get it over and done. "The results are the same."

He looked at Anakin with unabashed reproof. "Of course it matters. What you make of their motives, _my_ motives, determines how you respond to correction. You always saw them as deliberately keeping you in the dark because they feared your power, out of jealousy, but along the way you seem to have forgotten that a Jedi rejects these feelings. I suppose now you must have always seen me in the same way. But did you ever stop to think maybe we feared _for_ you? That we worried your tendency to plunge headfirst without looking would do to you exactly what it has done?"

Anakin sneered at that. "Make me powerful?"

A shiver of pain washed through him and he gasped, trying to minimize his movements. Obi-Wan calmed his tone, relaxed before he went on. "Make you lose everything you loved. Make you lose yourself to a darkness I know must be tormenting you." He measured Anakin with his gaze compassionately, which seemed to make his former apprentice bristle all the more, a sure sign he was hitting on the truth. "Does it not effect you at all, Anakin? Is the kind boy I knew completely gone now?"

"There's always a sacrifice for the greater good," Anakin replied as he started to open the cell door, clearly having hit the limit of his patience. As his apprentice knelt to cuff his wrists Obi-Wan considered attacking. It was a natural, visceral instinct. He did not have the Force, but he did have knowledge and skill. Knowing a struggle was a possibility, Anakin cut him off at the pass. "You can try to fight me, Master. However, consider what can be done to your _lover_ if you fail."

The word was a whip when Anakin said it. Obi-Wan's caught his breath in surprise, shocked that Anakin had made the connection so fast. He could hear the contempt his apprentice had for what he inevitably must see as darkest betrayal, intentional or not. He had always cautioned Anakin against attachment and the ways it could twist the heart, yet he had failed to practice what he preached. In a way he couldn't fault Anakin's anger. If only there had been time to talk, to come to an understanding. If only they had been more open with one another from the very beginning.

But craving a past that had never been would not change or help the present.

His hesitation sealed his fate and the cold metal of the cuffs encircled his wrists. Anakin stood and stretched forth his hand, drawing on the Force to pull his master to his feet. Reflexively trying to resist, Obi-Wan was confronted with the emptiness of what had been stripped of him by a few drops of lizard blood. He was forced out of the cell by his student's power, then shoved onto the gurney in the other half of the room. The metal against his ripped back made him groan out in anguish. He struggled at that point, the pain awakening his baser instincts. An unrepentant fist to the jaw brought stars to his eyes. He tasted blood.

Taking advantage of his sudden loss of balance, Anakin wordlessly strapped his master down, head to feet save for one arm, then removed a syringe from a small case nearby. "I'm sorry, Master," he apologized, flicking the needle. "I've never used one of these. I'll try to be gentle."

Obi-Wan tensed as his arm was forced open and Anakin pressed the needle against his flesh. The sting was nothing, however, compared to the sudden jolt that passed through him. It was like being thrown into a wall, then he let out a hard breath as it died down. Anakin removed the needle and cast it aside, watching Obi-Wan's expression as the drug took effect. "It's a stimulant. It will keep you very much awake, beyond normal endurance. Unfortunately, it also makes your nerves far more sensitive as well." He strapped the remaining arm down as his master fought a wave of dizziness.

Anakin lifted something that looked like the hilt of a knife. His thumb pressed a tiny button near the top and the sound of the blade snapping out rang through Obi-Wan's now oversensitive hearing. He drew on every teaching that would calm him, would help him endure as Anakin asked, "How many Jedi are still alive?"

"I don't know," he replied truthfully, tensing as his former apprentice raised his hand and hovered it over his head. It felt like a storm inside him as Anakin started reaching into his thoughts, the thrum of the electrical signals between neurons firing much too fast. He gritted his teeth hard and forced himself to empty his mind of everything but the soft steady trickle of waters in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, picturing the crystal clear liquid as it tumbled into the great collective in the basins below.

As if in confirmation of a suspicion, Anakin nodded solemnly and dropped his hand. "I can't hear you with that collar on. I guess we'll have to do it the old fashioned way. I apologize." He turned his attention now upon the physical and when the blade sliced into his side Obi-Wan jerked with a hiss of breath. His apprentice carved the skin of his master's hip with a clinical coldness that made him shudder. When it was done Obi-Wan felt the tension drain out of his body.

Anakin again turned his gaze on his master's eyes. There was no gloating there, no dark satisfaction. Only hard resolve. "Is Master Yoda alive?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, preparing himself for the next cut. "You know I won't answer your questions."

A momentary fire shimmered in those dark blue eyes, then died almost as quickly as it came. "I know," he agreed in low tones as if saddened, then once again applied the knife to his master's skin.

Biting back a moan, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and again tried to recall the music of the fountains, but the sound was getting harder to bring to mind. The knife in his side burned his sensitized nerves, demanding all his attention and leaving no room for anything but sensation. He could feel his hands close into fists of their own volition, his nails just shy of digging trenches of their own.

"Who is helping the Jedi?" Anakin asked, still tracing a dreadful path.

Sweat was starting to trickle down Obi-Wan's forehead. He could already feel it trailing down his neck and back. "No one," he breathed, only half certain he had said it aloud.

The knife cut a little deeper and he let out a cry. His body pulled away from the abuse, but Anakin was quick to find his flesh again. "Someone is helping them," he asserted, moving the blade higher along Obi-Wan's side. "A senator, perhaps? Senator Organa?"

A flash of fear drew Obi-Wan out of the torture induced hypnosis he was losing himself in. "We went there for Padme's sake," he said, going along with what he knew had been told to his former apprentice.

"And to defy the precious Jedi Code with each other?" Anakin snorted derisively, punctuating his anger with a slight twist of the knife that made Obi-Wan shudder against the table, moaning in agony. Every muscle ached from the strain, every sense overwhelmed by effects of the drug. His apprentice pulled the blade out and Obi-Wan fell back in exhaustion. "Have you been together all along, even as you cautioned me against attachment? Have you married?" He shook his head, savoring the pause in his torment.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, Anakin's words making him ache in a way no torture ever could. That was the paradox of attachment. Love broke the heart if it didn't make it stronger. He was going to have to forget the years of brotherly affection, the laughter and the bonding. Those times were over, dead.

Anakin watched him silently for a long moment. Perhaps he was also saying goodbye to what was. Obi-Wan didn't know his apprentice anymore, couldn't understand what was going on inside him. He had been a fool to go to Coruscant, to dream he could have changed Anakin's mind.

Taking a small towel, Anakin wiped the sweat off his master's forehead and brushed his hair gently out of his eyes. It came as a surprise when the knife suddenly hit one of his ribs. "The only way you're going to survive any of this is if you pledge your loyalty to me. I need to know how to find Yoda and the missing Jedi, and I need to know who is helping them. There is no other way. Palpatine will accept nothing less."

Another break in the cutting made a chill pass through him, quickly followed by a wave of heat and nausea. "Palpatine won't let me survive no matter what I offer," Obi-Wan whispered, gazing through a flutter of lashes at the ceiling above. If only he could pass out...

The hiss of the knife slithering back into its hilt made him twitch. Anakin pushed the towel against his livid skin and that was almost just as terrible as being sliced open. Obi-Wan groaned as Anakin put pressure on his side to contain the bleeding, using his other hand to start unlocking the restraints one by one.

He couldn't have fought back if he tried. Obi-Wan was in too much pain, was too sick from the drug swirling around in his system. Handing off control of the towel, Anakin eased him off the gurney and to his feet. He would have probably fell flat if the cell bars hadn't been close enough for him to brace against. Anakin gave him a precious few seconds to regain his balance, then ducked beneath his master's arm to help him back into his cell. Each step was tenuous, but Anakin supported him even as he always had in times of injury.

Once inside for a long moment Obi-Wan just stood, considering whether or not to just fall to his knees then and there. He was barely aware of Anakin stalking out until the door hissed shut behind him. For that he was grateful. He didn't think he could bear looking at his apprentice right now.

Obi-Wan steeled himself against the pain and abandoned the floor for a slow walk to 'fresher on the other side of the room. There was a sink and long mirror there where he splashed his face, enjoying the beautiful caress of sweet, cold water. When he looked in the mirror he saw how pale and worn he was, and vowed to keep eye contact with his reflection to a bare minimum.

Peeling the towel off his side was a nightmare, but worth it when he wet it down to clean the blood off. He could see snippets of his wounds in the mirror and was almost afraid to see how bad the damage was, but looked anyway when the blood began to slow its incessant flow. What he saw made his fist tighten. Love broke the heart. Anakin had not simply flayed him open, but had carved a single word into his side as if branding him for his sins. In harsh red lines it read:

 _Hypocrite_.

oOo

The following night Anakin insisted on having dinner with Lyra. They sat at table in her quarters that was situated beside the large windows where a light drizzle was falling on the manor. Outside phosphorescent night flowers in shades of blue and green glimmered beneath dark trees that wept with the rain. Lyra watched without seeing, listening to the thrum of the water hitting the ground, conscious that Anakin was watching her.

"Tell me something," he said finally, and the sound of his wine being set down made her nerves jar. She waited for him to speak. He waited for her to turn. When she gave in, he continued. "You are the first of your line to become a Jedi. You are immersed in the Lightside of the Force, your ancestors whose memories you possess, the Darkside. How do you not see the Darkside is stronger by now?"

She felt her jaw tense at the question and forced herself to relax. "The Darkside is an adrenaline rush, nothing more. It is ephemeral and unsustainable, its strength based solely on how much emotion you can retain at any given moment. The Lightside's strength is that it comes not from emotion, but a disciplined grasp that needs no anger to fuel it."

He nodded thoughtfully, took a bite of his dinner and pointed at her plate. "I'm not above the idea of feeding you intravenously. I won't allow either of you to suicide your way out of this."

"Perhaps I could eat if you allowed me my privacy," she returned. "I find it difficult to maintain an appetite with you here."

A smile caused the corners of Anakin's lips to raise. "Descent into insult?"

"A statement of fact. Your presence is emotionally upsetting." Despite that, she deigned to take up her fork. The food was like ashes.

Satisfied, Anakin turned back to the conversation at hand. "I concede the point you're trying to make about maintaining the emotion that fuels the Darkside, but this is why the Sith train themselves to evoke passion at, as you put it, any given moment. Besides, when harnessed well enough, one doesn't need to sustain it for long because the strength it gives makes the task at hand easier, faster." He folded his hands over his plate, thinking. "I've never felt more powerful."

Lyra shook her head at him. His suppositions depended on the situation and were not absolute, merely a wish concocted by his addiction to his passions. "You're on a drug."

"Explain to me the success of one Sith Lord against an entire Order of Jedi, then."

"He was never alone. He always had an apprentice, including one who could sabotage from within the Order and utilize Republic funds to commission an army of thousands of Clones. Not to mention the fact that much of Palpatine's success rests upon the fact that he is a politician of great power and skill at manipulation."

He didn't seem troubled by that logic. "Granted, but he was still only ever one man when it came to concealing himself from the Jedi and right there on Coruscant! How could they stand in the same room and not know who he was? Even I had no idea and I'm more powerful than any of them. Possibly more powerful than Palpatine himself!"

Therein was the truth that had troubled both she and Obi-Wan ever since this nightmare had begun. Lyra felt at a loss to explain it. There were possibilities, of course, but nothing anyone could say for certain. "The Lightside was spread among many Jedi..."

Anakin pointed his fork at her as if he had expected this response. "Yes, of course. The reason why Sith only give their knowledge to two instead of an order of them. So, you're going to fault them for what, cheating the system? Not playing clean by passing their power around? Don't forget, here on your own world we have an entire order of beings drawing from the Darkside of the Force, making your argument weak at best."

"I don't know everything, Anakin," she retorted wearily, pushing her dinner away half-eaten. She could not continue this farce of polite conversation any longer. "Unequal distribution of powers can reveal nothing of the strengths of each. You're asking me to confirm your suspicions and condone your actions and I won't do it."

He pushed his own plate away, seeming to have lost his own appetite. Tracing his finger along the rim of his wine glass, he changed the subject. "I questioned Obi-Wan earlier."

Of course he had. Lyra closed her eyes, not wanting to see whatever expression he wore, wishing desperately she could connect to the Force and sense Obi-Wan. It was a blindness neither she nor her predecessors had ever known. "How is he?"

"Alive." When she looked up his face was an emotionless mask. He took a drink of his wine, then sighed, "Of course, he revealed nothing. I'm going to have to try again. Have you thought about my offer?"

A thrill of pain passed through her as she recalled it. She could barely bring voice to her question as she asked, "What do you want to know?"

"For starters nothing more than what the Jedi teach their Healers. I know the basics of encouraging the midichlorians to induce healing, but I'd like to be able to sense the body and manipulate it directly."

Such knowledge open doors she dared not even consider. But what was the alternative? Leave Obi-Wan to suffer alone? "I suppose I can teach you that," she replied, a gnawing fear in the pit of her stomach. She just had to keep reminding herself of the alternative.

A satisfied expression touched his features. He stood and motioned her to follow, and she did though she was fearful of the consequences. They sat on the floor opposite one another and Anakin removed her collar for the first time in a week. As the Force flooded back through her, Lyra could not suppress a sigh of relief and utter joy at the feeling. She could sense his amusement and it jarred her into withdrawing her presence momentarily. But she couldn't hide for long.

"We'll start with identifying the basic body systems," she started and he transformed from monster to eager student. Hating the idea of his power joining with hers, she nevertheless said, "Stretch your senses toward mine and follow me. Do you feel it?"

The rhythmic thrum would give it away easily. She could sense his wonder and, strangely, a touch of sorrow and regret. "The heart," he breathed, nodding. His eyes were lost in thought. "I felt that when my mother..." Abruptly, he stopped and looked up. "I feel it."

Lyra took a shaky breath and moved on. "Follow my guiding. Move along the flesh as it stretches and moves, down off the sides and into the ebb and flow of blood." The river was hot and violent as it pulsed through the blood vessels. "Sink your senses in, refine them and feel that the wave isn't just liquid, but many small parts of a whole." She could sense him zeroing in on the cells themselves. "Soon you can begin to differentiate cells by how they feel, but for now just concentrate on the fact that each whole is a sum of parts."

"It's so stop and go," he remarked, again his face abstracted by concentration. "Makes it difficult to keep track of a single cell when its so roughly pushed away. The heart is strong."

"It withstands so much in a single lifetime," she replied back, not really talking about the physical organ anymore. She nudged his senses. "The lungs are much the same when you breathe. Feel it? The contraction and relaxation, the exchange of chemicals. It's not quite as demanding, but still very strong in its own right."

His senses stretched away from hers. She could feel him examining her breathing, cataloging the sharp winds of an inhale, the expansion of the inner walls of each air sac and on up the branches with the exhale. Then she felt her heart quicken as he clawed up out of her lungs with his senses and into her throat, where he stopped. Slowly she became aware that he was not merely an observer anymore, but was actively coaxing the air vessel to constrict. In a panic, Lyra reached for her throat with one hand and pawed at his shoulder with the other, eyes wide in disbelief as she lost the capacity to take in new air.

And just as quickly, Anakin let go. Lyra dizzily gasped and refilled her lungs, then turned angry eyes on him, crossing her arms protectively across her chest. "This lesson is over."

"It's over when I say it's over," he retorted simply, watching her struggle, eyes as ever unreadable.

"You know how to follow the systems. You can examine your own body from this point."

He shook his head in refusal. "We will continue as we were." His eyes softened at her stare. "I won't hurt you again. Teach me about the nervous system. Then tomorrow I'll take you to him."

Despite herself, Lyra felt her anger quicken in frustration. The Darkside was churning within Anakin, she could sense it stirred by his actively drawing on the power to inflict suffering, and it sickened her to be a slave to his whims. But she couldn't deny him, not with Obi-Wan as the reward for her suffering.

And so Lyra nodded despite her fear and steeled herself to continue, forcing back the tenrdils of darkness that threatened to circle around her as well. They spent another hour and by the time it was finished she was exhausted. He collared her again and left, and when the door reopened to reveal her maidservant, she readily accepted the comforting arms that wrapped around her shoulders. "I feel like I'm selling my soul," she whispered.

To which Taena could only reply, "I'm so sorry, my Lady."

oOo

A/N: Happy New Year! RIP Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds. /3

PS: Of course my Lyra has nothing to do with R1's Lyra. :P They just stole my name.


	16. Asking the Impossible

Sins of the Sons

by CandySith

Summary: A study on the pitfalls of attachment and appetite in three men, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Note: Story is Obi-Wan/OC-centric, yes I know very scary, but I don't write my OCs as annoying goddesses and I tend not to describe them for the easy self-insert of the reader if they're into that sort of thing. Ignores Siri and Tahl storylines and retells the events after Order 66. Why? For my dark, evil pleasure.

oOo

He had been dreaming of a dark enemy running him through from the side and sure enough, when he awoke he found it had contained a kernel of truth. The blood was dried and the skin was taught when Obi-Wan moved, which had made him groan when he was able to make himself finally attempt to switch positions. Wearily, he had dragged himself to the small 'fresher area in the back where a merciless mirror confirmed he looked much like he felt. He was a mess that small splashes of water just could not hope to fix. Still, it felt good to just fill his hand and let it trickle down his shoulders, smoothing down his livid back like a beautiful caress.

Hands curled along the sink sides and eyes closed, Obi-Wan had simply stood for a long moment to enjoy the cool air on his now wet skin.

When the door to his somewhat comfortless 'quarters' hissed open behind him he opened his eyes. The reflection in the mirror revealed Lyra and his pulse quickened. When she met his eyes she rushed to the bars, reaching her hand out to take his as he approached. He didn't care that Anakin was at her heels, watching his every move. Obi-Wan took it with a grateful squeeze, then asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she tried to assure him, but it was little comfort knowing she was alone out there without him, alone to face whatever monstrous things Anakin decided to do.

Anakin seemed to sneer at their display. "You're breaking my heart," he quipped, opening the cell door. Obi-Wan watched the dark gloved fingers of his padawan's mechanical fingers curl along her arm and wanted to lash out as she was shoved inside. Seeing it in his master's gaze, Anakin returned the non-verbal challenge with a hard look of his own, then said, "I'll return later. Enjoy your time together." He was a cold, dark silhouette as he stalked from the room.

Obi-Wan turned back to Lyra and found her hands pulling him by the shoulders into her kiss. He luxuriated in it, pressed his forehead against hers and whispered, "I've missed you," before going in for another kiss. "Has he hurt you?"

She shook her head. "No. Not yet." Her expression darkened a little. "I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't try to use it as a bargaining chip against you, though. That's kind of why I'm here, actually."

Obi-Wan looked at her gravely. "What do you mean? What are you giving him?"

Her hands pet at his shoulders in a quelling motion; he found he liked to be quelled. "He's asking me to teach him things, Darkside knowledge of my ancestors to increase his power." Her expression was frightened. "I didn't know what to do, Obi-Wan. I didn't want to leave you to face this alone." He touched her cheek gently, felt her trembling as she breathed, "What do I do?"

He shook his head at her. "It doesn't matter what you choose. He's going to do whatever he thinks it's going to take to get what he wants." Pulling her closer, he gave her forehead a kiss. "I would rather see you, see that you're alright for myself. I wish that I could sense you." He fingered the collar at her throat.

"I know," she replied, reaching to touch the one around his own neck. "It responds to his finger imprint alone. We've tried cutting it, exposing it to a mild EMP pulse. It's shielded well." Her eyes looked up into his gently. "Let me see your back."

His pulse quickened in apprehension. "Don't worry about it," he found himself saying, not wanting to distress her. Her hand touched his bare shoulder and she pushed gently. He shook his head against the urging, but her soft gaze made him relent. Closing his eyes, clasping one hand around the other arm, he turned and let her see what he had endured. She took a shaky breath at the vision before her and he knit his brow, wishing he could hide it from her. Her fingertips found his hip as she read the brand Anakin had given him. He hated this, hated her seeing these marks.

Her words echoed his very thoughts. "How could he do this?"

Turning back to face her, Obi-Wan shook his head. "The Darkside has twisted him. I can barely recognize him and I feel..." A thread of pain and shame pulsed through him. "I should have seen it. I should have known what he was becoming."

"No one knew." It was true, yet he had known Anakin better than he knew anyone else. How could such darkness hide for so long? For surely this had been growing within him, could not have happened so fast as it seemed. Yet, when one considered the speed with which the day transformed into night...

Taking his hand, Lyra led him to the cot attached to the wall across the way and he sank down tiredly. "What happened on Coruscant?" she asked him.

Obi-Wan sighed. "I made it to the Gallery and found a tracer signal etched into the metal, but there was also a trap waiting for me. A probe droid shot me with a dart, but I managed to find a place to pass out safely. When I woke up I got to Dex and he helped me off Coruscant and into that monstrosity you saw me arrive in." The memory of it ignited a new sense of betrayal in him, which he tried to subjugate quickly. He was going to have to meditate to purge himself of the dark emotions swirling within. "What about you? I heard you were attacked trying to get Padme here?"

Drawing her arms around herself in vain comfort, Lyra whispered, "Bounty hunters were after us. I took her to Naboo. I couldn't bear the thought of denying her family the right to mourn properly, no matter how dangerous. She deserved that much. She told me Anakin had visions of her dying in childbirth."

That surprised Obi-Wan. He knit his brow. Death in childbirth was simply nonexistent on developed worlds. "Perhaps the Force was telling him something else. Perhaps it was one of many possibilities." The distant future was one of the most impossible things to harness with mere sentient understanding. The Jedi used precognition during battle, but these were flashes not more than a few minutes ahead of the present moment. The further one got from the present, the more variables could change the path the future was making. "Who would do this?" he wondered aloud.

"Palpatine," she whispered and he turned his gaze on her in surprise. She was biting her bottom lip in thought, then continued, "Who else? The enemies she made during the war are scrambling to do damage control right now. If the hunter that escaped is a relative of Fett's as I suspect, the one who hired him must have a sizable reservoir of cash flow. And Palpatine bent Anakin to his will to consume him, to make him his apprentice. Padme knew that, brought us those recordings of what happened in the Temple. She's one of the few people that stood a chance of bringing Anakin back, changing his mind. Palpatine could never destroy her on charges. His only recourse to keep Anakin on his side would be a bounty hunter."

It made sense, he had to admit. Obi-Wan frowned at the floor, seeing the story play out in his mind's eye. "Have you suggested this to Anakin?"

Lyra nodded her head. "When I told him about what happened. It took him aback, but he claims not to believe it."

"Of course. He would have to admit he was wrong, a skill he's always had difficulty mastering." He again found his ire rising and had to take a moment to just breathe. Her hand found his temple and brushed back a few stray strands of his dirty hair. When Lyra whispered, "I'm so tired of death," Obi-Wan brought himself out of his thoughts to take her hand. The truth was he was tired of it as well. Months away from Coruscant, days on end flying or fighting or negotiating. Sometimes even a victory or two. But always coupled with death and destruction. It wore the mind down, even the Jedi mind.

"Then let's not talk about it," he replied simply and she nodded, her pale smile betraying her enjoyment of his unsophisticated battle plan. Obi-Wan mirrored and took a lock of her hair between his fingers, giving it a soft tug. He let a playful leer cross his features, hoping to tease them out of their melancholy. "You know what else I miss?"

Lyra laughed at him. "You're impossibly bad. Just be aware there are recorders in here. Old ones, but still possibly functional."

Obi-Wan made a show of looking around. "Good. Where are they? I want to give them insulting gestures."

"What would Yoda say?" she admonished. She pressed the backs of her fingers against his abdomen and caressed softly. He had a feeling Yoda would have something to say about _that_ as well.

"In 900 years he's probably learned more than a few good ones," he replied with a smirk. He flashed a particularly nasty one that Twi'leks used at humans and she slapped his hand in a soft rebuke. "Qui-Gon taught me that one."

"Of course he did."

The name stirred images within Obi-Wan and he looked at Lyra seriously. "Something strange happened in the Gallery. His hologram flickered on by itself. It looked at me, straight in the eyes. I know it's programmed to do so, but it felt so real, like he was really looking at me. And I swear it said my name and that I could feel his presence." He felt ridiculous saying it now. Yet the eerie feeling remained. "I miss his direct honesty now that I've seen so much duplicity. I don't know. Maybe this whole thing has driven me crazy."

"The Jedi teach we become one with the Unifying Force," she reminded him, but her shining eyes were thoughtful. "I've heard of others experiencing such things. Think of that creature we saw on Dromund Kaas. And I have, once or twice, thought I felt him. It may not be as clear cut as we imagine." She gave him a sly look. "Of course, if I actually ever see him, I might talk to him about the things he taught his padawan."

Scooting closer to her so their sides were touching, Obi-Wan retorted, "You can punish me if you like. I'll even try to learn from it."

Her mouth opened in response, but the door across the way hissed open and Obi-Wan tensed, expecting Anakin's return. He was grateful when Lyra's maidservant entered instead. She carried two things in her arms—a large container and his Jedi robe. "I've been allowed to bring food," she said, setting the box down outside the cell. "And I've laundered your robe."

"My new favorite person," he replied gratefully as Lyra drew him over to accept the goods.

The young girl grinned at her mistress as she passed the robe through. "I like this pet. You may keep it." The girls both laughed at his expression.

They ate a meager breakfast together, seated on the robe they had spread along the floor near the cell entrance, talking about inconsequential things or other things that kept them away from dark ruminations. It was a strangely beautiful morning, considering that they were locked away with him injured and both betrayed, facing death at any time. After breakfast his weariness caught up with him and he had to lay down. At least now he had something soft and warm on which to suffer.

Lyra joined him, letting her hand roam across his form, soothing him into a comfortable drowse. When Anakin returned he had stopped, watching the display with unreadable eyes until Obi-Wan awakened and saw him. Reaching across, he awakened her from her own sleep and as Anakin took her away he felt both strengthened by her visit and sorrowful that it had come to this. When the door shut he forced himself into the lotus position and closed his eyes, unable to touch the Force but able to revive its tenets within him through dedication and meditation.

That night Anakin returned for him.

He was asleep on the floor, his robe wrapped haphazardly over his upper half for warmth. The clang of a boot against the bars was what awakened him with a start. "Sorry, Master."

Standing up, Obi-Wan rubbed his face and retorted, "I'll bet you are." He took a few seconds to himself, to prepare himself mentally. When he finally looked up Anakin had settled back against the gurney upon which he had first tortured the older Jedi. Obi-Wan closed the distance and arms crossed, stood at the bars to face his former padawan. "What are you making her teach you?" he asked, hoping to catch him off guard and trick him into revealing something, anything.

If Anakin was startled by the question he did not show it. "You're about to find out, unfortunately. I don't think she realized I would take the knowledge and experiment with it on you. You may wish to keep that a secret for her peace of mind."

A wave of anger pulsed through Obi-Wan at that. How quickly even Jedi serenity could be injured! He supposed by now he should not be surprised by Anakin's actions. Steeling himself, he nodded once. "Get it over with then."

"Tell me something," the younger man said instead, folding his arms, eyeing his master through those now too cool eyes. "How far would you go to protect her? To preserve her life, maintain her virtue and goodness?"

Obi-Wan felt a pang of anxiety at the question, but it wasn't anything less than what he had expected would come sooner or later. Anakin was going to use their love against them. It made tactical sense if you were a monster. "I will not betray the remaining Jedi. I cannot and she knows it, supports it and will mirror it."

Anakin shrugged that off as a minor thing. "I'm not talking about that. What would you, yourself, sacrifice? I know you would give your life and your physical well-being for her, that's not even a question. But what if you had the opportunity to save her and others by sacrificing your grace? Your integrity?" Obi-Wan hardly knew how to respond to that and his former padawan didn't seem poised to demand a reply, nodding as if the silence was expected. "It's something I want you to think about over the next few days."

"I don't understand," Obi-Wan replied uncertainly, thrown off balance by the proposition. What was Anakin getting at?

His apprentice's expression softened, but was resolute. "You will, Obi-Wan." And then the game was on. Anakin exhaled and looked his weakened master over, then said, "Now tell me where Yoda is."

"He's dead," Obi-Wan retorted quickly, easily.

Anakin didn't buy it, of course. Yet there would be no blood to mark his defiance. His apprentice lifted his hand and Obi-Wan cried out in sudden agony. A snapping noise in his hand confirmed a break. He held it out, not daring to touch it lest he damage it further, watching as the skin started to turn red. Anakin watched his pained reaction without expression. "The collar prevents your midichlorians from interacting and being interacted with, but not your flesh. The technique is called 'Bone Shatter'. She didn't teach me that one directly, however, so don't worry that she's in any way responsible for your pain."

" _You_ would bear the full extent of the responsibility even if she had," Obi-Wan hissed back, holding his arm gingerly against his chest, breathing hard as the pain dulled to an ache.

"I suppose you're right," Anakin agreed, then asked, "Who is helping the Jedi?"

Despite himself Obi-Wan couldn't stop from growling, "Palpatine," which won him another broken bone in the same hand. Even after the break the sound of it happening played again and again in his mind. The pain was dizzying and hie swayed on his feet, but it only served to make him all the more steadfast instead of compliant.

"How many Jedi survived?" Another break. "Did Organa know you were on Alderaan? Did Padme offer to help the remaining Jedi? Where is Yoda?" By the end of it Obi-Wan was on his knees, arms curled inward and head down as he moaned at the pain radiating through him.

Anakin had moved to stand at the bars at some point during the questioning, was now crouched so he could look into his master's twisted expression as he all but whispered, "Where is Yoda?"

Sweat poured from his forehead and trickled down his back. The ebb and flow of his torment threatened to rob him of his consciousness. But he had lost none of his resolve. Forcing his eyes up, Obi-Wan glared in refusal to reply.

"I've learned enough," Anakin said, looking uncomfortable despite himself. It didn't stop him from raising his hand, however. He had the look of a man set on his destiny and that chilled Obi-Wan, for it meant there would be no depths at which his former padawan would stop. "I think I can now make you feel the pain of a break without actually damaging the flesh. Let's both pray that I'm correct."

The meaning took a second to register, bringing with it fear and sorrow. Obi-Wan didn't even have time to tense his muscles before the agony seized him. It was like a hand wrapped around his spine, slowly closing inward, building pressure along bone and flesh like a vice. He started shaking uncontrollably as the nerves were compressed. And then suddenly the fist closed hard, mercilessly.

Throwing his head back, Obi-Wan screamed and then hit the floor. His fingers clawed at the stone beneath him. He could barely think, couldn't even tell whether or not his back had truly snapped or if it was just an illusion.

He had a vague thought of wondering if this was what death felt like before the blackness of shock dragged him beneath its inky depths.

oOo

Anakin did not come to her the next day and she was frightened by that could mean. Was he with Obi-Wan now, practicing some ancient, evil art? Was Obi-Wan alive? She approached the clones stationed at the stairway sometime before dinner and was turned away without a reply, leaving her anxious and aching.

The next day passed without her seeing Anakin, but that night after dinner he graced her with his presence and the crimson color of his eyes startled her. Despite her almost painful curiosity, Lyra resisted the urge to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was afraid. He offered nothing as to the state of Obi-Wan's health until she asked him quite calmly, "How is he?"

Seated with her before the fireplace, now lit against the night's cold and darkness, he said simply, "He's alive, for now."

Lyra crossed her arms and gazed into the flames nearby, watching the occasional spark. It did nothing to warm the chill in her heart as she said, "You used what I taught you against him?"

Anakin nodded without reserve. "You're very astute. Oh, I hear you came looking for me. I had no idea you would miss me." She wanted to slap that smirk off his face.

"Don't be a fool," she admonished him harshly, her shimmering eyes glaring.

That only made his smile widen. She hated his amusement, hated that he made her feel such strong emotions. Pain seemed a game to him now and for the life of her she could not figure out how he had become so lost. He sat forward on his couch across from her. "Speaking of our little lessons..."

Lyra narrowed her eyes. "So you can use it against him again? I don't think so."

This deflated his humor a bit. "I could always experiment on him myself, untrained and without a clue. That could prove interesting. It worked once." She wanted to demand what that meant, but he went on. "What I want tonight has nothing to do with him, anyway, so you needn't fear I'll use it against him. I want to move on, beyond human form. I want to sense more, to see more, to reach into the subatomic. Teach me to open my mind to the universe, Master Lyra. I want to feel the energy, to find the Unifying Force at its heart."

"You've been reading Sethra's diaries." A chill passed through her. "That doesn't happen over night," she replied, startled by the sheer enormity of what he was asking. Had others done it? Yes, they had and had walked away either crazy or broken by the realization they could not channel such power.

"I can touch it," he disagreed, shaking his head, eyes conversational instead of twisted. "I know I can, I've almost done it myself. But I need your guidance. I need to follow your senses."

"I've never even done this myself."

Anakin frowned impatiently at her. "You still know more than I do. Teach it to me." When she shook her head, too frightened by the prospects of what he could do even with the bare minimum of such power, his expression went flat with a promise. "Would you like to watch me torture him instead? I'll take you with me, make you see his pain. I don't want to do that to you, but if you bar me from this knowledge, so help me..." He was losing himself, tainted by the Darkside on this world, unable to control it because in many ways, despite what he had done, when he had come to Xhal he had been almost an innocent in comparison. As time passed, so much longer did the Darkside prey upon the minds of those unable to withstand its pleasures.

Shaken by this realization, by what she was seeing before her very eyes, Lyra gave in and motioned to the floor. She slid off her couch and seated herself, watching as he mirrored her. Anakin reached for her neck and pressed his forefinger along the back of her collar, removing the hateful device that suddenly seemed a sanctuary to her now. The Force flooded back into her like blood into a cold extremity and she took a deep breath, trying to separate the darkness from the light.

And then she closed her eyes and started searching her scattered memories of things her ancestors had learned. She could sense Anakin focusing on her, zeroing in on her senses and latching on like a parasite. Feeling him there was like its own jail cell. There was no freedom in the Force anymore.

Wanting this over and done, to be rid of his presence, Lyra stretched her senses toward the fireplace and said, "Focus on the flames. Feel the warmth and the motion of the whole."

"I can feel it," he confirmed, and she could feel the way he examined the space, cataloging and probing.

He was the kind of learner that delved ahead, not stopping to appreciate what he saw for what it was. She could sense him picking apart the flames one by one, pushing inward to find what made each spark tick. "You're too impatient," she admonished him, winning a flash of irritation mingled with surrender. "I want you to break the flames down into their chemical components, yes, but don't lose sight of the whole. You need to see the _connection_ between all the processes to be able to reach their interactions with the Force."

Anakin pulled his senses up short and followed her guidance. "I apologize, Master. I was wrong."

 _About a great many things_ , she wanted to say back, but knew she could not. It would only serve to anger him and she feared that anger would be visited on Obi-Wan in retaliation. Instead, Lyra ignored his attempts to create an illusion of ease and moved on. The quicker he was satisfied, the faster he would leave. "Feel the heat simmer around the wood in the fireplace. Follow the ions as they break away and combine with the oxygen in the air."

She felt a realization in him and they both opened their eyes. "This is what Dooku did, isn't it? How he could create lightening at his fingertips? He manipulated the ions in the air?"

"I suppose that must be true," she countered, wondering if Anakin would now utilize his former enemy's skills. He closed his eyes and motioned her on, latching on to her senses once more.

"More than the reactions, I want you to feel the energy it costs to move each piece of the puzzle. The oxidation produces a chemical energy. Feel it and follow it. You can sense echoes of the Force moving with it. The energy of the Force is the companion of all the energy of the universe. If matter could exist in a state without energy it would not move. There would be no reactions, no light, no thoughts to capture the truth of the universe. The Force is where energy begins, what touches all things and sets things in motion. It is the opposite of gravity."

Anakin nodded, a spark of hunger for knowledge igniting in him each time he found the secret connection between the Force and the tangible universe. "The Jedi teach this as theory," he said, still lost in the echoes surrounding them. "But why don't they teach us how to sense and harness this part of the Force?"

The question was at the heart of why she was reluctant to teach it. "It's dangerous and addictive, and there are few uses for it by such limited beings as we are. The delicate and complicated steps to do even the simplest of actions requires a mind capable of far more processing power than most sentient beings can supply. I'm only teaching you to touch it so you can see for yourself the magnitude of what you're trying to take on."

"Dangerous? Addictive?" He shook his head, not understanding, ignoring the point she was trying to make.

Lyra sighed and pulled her senses away, causing him to look at her. "You sensed the Force energy surrounding a flame. You desire to open your mind to the universe as a whole, to the all-encompassing, the Unifying Force. The amount of that power that just your mind can contain is infinitesimal in comparison."

"But the Jedi teach we are of the Force..."

"...Bound to flesh in this stage of existence." She shook her head at him, wishing she could somehow convey the impossibility of what he desired. "The midichlorians will feed to you the Unifying Force for as long as you draw it in, without awareness of your physical limitations. Others before you have tried this, Sethra included. Some took in so much they exhausted their bodies and suffered catastrophic neural failure resulting in death. Others managed to survive only to awaken damaged, both psychologically and physically. Some gave it up. None of them managed to remain connected to the whole for any longer than a moment and _none_ could focus that kind of power into an intelligent action."

He looked subdued and she hoped beyond hope he was beginning to see what she was saying. Perhaps the thought of losing his power and mind frightened him. Still, he pressed, "And the addiction you mentioned?"

That was the worst part of it. She could recall bits and pieces of Sethra's experiences, of her emotions, and it was the kind of thing that colored her nightmares. "It's...it's beautiful, Anakin. I won't lie to you. Being connected to all things, seeing even a portion of the great whole. The energy fills you, it enlivens you unlike anything you could imagine. You crave it when its gone."

"Can I tell when I'm in danger of 'overwhelming' myself?"

His question gave her a sinking feeling. He was going to try it anyway. "Sethra would stop at a certain point in her connections. She would start to get almost giddy with joy. Every nerve would be on fire with pain and pleasure. She was found in this state once, laughing uncontrollably. And then suddenly the urge to move, to think, it would all just go away. It was exhaustion and she had to wrench herself out of the apathy and force herself to close her senses off." Lyra shuddered at the memories of it. "It frightened her, Anakin, so much so that she became afraid to even use her normal power, fearing it would awaken the hunger. She almost refused to take part in the Transference, to pass on her memories, but relented only when threatened. Since then none of us have sought to take on that much of the Force."

The tale did not make him happy, yet she could sense his iron determination set upon its course. "It's a risk I'll have to take," he said quietly, then closed his eyes.

Slowly Lyra led him on into the vast expanse, coaching him on how to extend his senses, to feel the connection between all things. The echoes of the Unifying Force soon grew into shouts that shook her to her very soul, yet still he pressed on, searching for something she could not define. Together they became aware of the very molecules surrounding them, could sense atom crash into atom and the magnificence of it made her stand in awe at the complexity of the Force. It was just as beautiful as Sethra had passed on in her memories and terrified, Lyra pulled her senses from the precipice.

Anakin did not. She opened her eyes and saw his exultant expression. He was every bit as lost in the rapture as she had been. She could sense him reaching further and further, exploring the space around them as if he had never seen it—or anything, for that matter—before in his life. His eyes were open, but not focused on anything visible to the naked eye. When he spoke his voice trembled. "It's stunning. It's bliss. Why did you pull away? Come back, it's..." He panted a few breaths and then gazed at her. "You're luminous."

It occurred to her that she could let him die like this, could coax him into continuing on into the void, but could she live with herself?

"You're taking on too much," she warned him, frightened by the strength of her own temptation. She could sense him reaching for more, thirsty like a dying man in the desert and she cursed herself for agreeing to this. "Anakin, stop."

"Don't be afraid," he replied, seeing her without seeing, eyes moving back and forth as if caught in a dream. "I never thought... It was always just power, but now..." He took a deep breath and she shivered with his next words. "Can I find her?"

Lyra felt like her heart had stopped as the meaning of his question sank in. Her voice barely audible, she whispered, "No one ever has."

He stared at her as if seeing into her heart. She could see his body tremble with the weight of what he was taking on. The Unifying Force was like a storm around them and she wanted to shake him for daring so much.

And then he said five words that shattered her tenuous hold on her own emotions. Five words that shook her to her core, five words breathed in awe and hunger. "You have life in you."

Anakin's lashes fluttered shut as he fell out of the rhythm. He brought unsteady hands to his temples and seemed to be willing the world to return to equilibrium. When he could finally peer up at her he wore his weariness on his sleeve. "That was... It was incredible."

Lyra could not reply. Her hand covered her lips to hold in her shock as her eyes burned with tears. No. It couldn't be. Her other hand reached for her abdomen, shaking the entire way.

He stood, swaying on his feet, and it brought her out of her horrified reverie. She said, "What you're trying isn't possible."

"You don't know that."

He had a new hunger in his eyes that had not been there before. It frightened her. "I wish you could bring her back, Anakin. I really do. But you must know that it simply cannot be." Surely he could see that.

His eyes hardened at her certainty. "I will find a way," he retorted, then took up his cloak to stalk out.

Right before he hit the door she asked him, "What are you going to do?" Would he tell Obi-Wan what he had learned? Was it even true? Her heart pounded as she waited for him to speak.

Pausing without turning, Anakin thought for a handful of seconds, then replied, "I don't know." And then he was gone.

Lyra leaned back against the couch behind her, thoughts racing and stomach churning. Others had dared search the Unifying Force for their loved ones souls and had come up empty. As a rule one became One with the Force when they perished, but there were too many flukes to assume that applied to every soul. Yet to find a spirit among the unseen? One that could not even touch the Force? Anakin was powerful, but he asked to achieve the impossible. And when he finally figured that out Lyra was terrified of what would follow.

oOo

PS: Lyra from my story is not Lyra from Rogue One. They stole my name! ;)


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